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"Earthly  ties!  dear  child,  how  vain  are  they  I  how  little, 
HOW  less  than  nothing  when  compared  with  things  that  are 

ETERNALS"  PAGE  4°. 


THE 

Sister  of  Charity 


BY 

MRS.  ANNA  H.  DORSET 


P.  J.  KENEDY  &  SONS 


Copyright 

1896 

By  P.  J.  KENEDY. 


PREFACE. 


HE  following  simple  tale  will  require  but 


a  short  and  simple  preface.    It  is  written 


with  a  view  to  aid  in  the  good  work  of 
supplying  the  younger  portion  of  the  Catholic 
community  with  a  source  of  mental  recreation, 
which,  while  it  interests  the  mind,  will  also  lead 
it  to  the  conclusion  that  reHgion  and  moraHty, 
above  all  else,  constitute  the  only  true  and  last- 
ing happiness.  While  we  deplore  the  present 
vitiated  taste  for  that  kind  of  Hght  literature 
which,  stamped  by  the  approval  of  fashion,  finds 
its  w^ay  daily  into  the  boudoirs  and  parlors  of 
''young  America,"  we  can  see  but  one  method  by 
which,  in  the  opinion  of  older  and  wiser  heads 
than  our  own,  its  evil  and  immoral  influences 
can  be  effectually  checked — which  is  by  con- 
fronting it  with  a  strong,  healthy  current  of 
pleasant  reading,  designed  to  instruct  and  win 
the  heart,  while  it  amuses  the  fancy.  The  au- 
thoress has  touched  lightly  on  a  few  doctrinal 
points,  and  for  many  of  the  arguments  used 
therein  is  indebted  to  the  ''Book  of  the  Council 


4 


PREFACE. 


of  Trent,"  ''Hornihold  on  the  Sacraments,"  and 
a  little  work,  clear,  powerful  and  earnest  in  its 
explanations  of  the  truth,  called  "Fifty  Rea- 
sons." Some  extracts  have  also  been  made 
from  one  or  two  anonymous  articles  published 
many  years  ago  in  the  ''Catholic  Magazine." 
Placing  the  little  volume  under  the  patronage 
of  the  Blessed  Virgin,  she  humbly  trusts  that  it 
may  be  productive  of  at  least  some  of  the  good 
results  which  she  earnestly  hopes  for. 


THE 


SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


CHAPTER  1. 

'The  queenly  ship!— brare  hearts  had  striven 

And  true  ones  died  with  her — 
We  saw  her  mighty  cable  riven 

Like  floating  gossamer. 
We  saw  her  proud  flag  struck  that  morn — 

A  star  once  o'er  the  seas; 
Her  anchor  gone,  her  deck  uptorn, 

And  sadder  things  than  these." 

FATHER!  father!''  exclaimed  Blanche  Les- 
lie, throwing  aside  an  interesting  book, 
which  had.  ere  the  daylight  faded,  en- 
grossed her  attention,  and  laying  her  hand  some- 
what heavily  on  her  father's  shoulder,  as  he  re- 
clined in  his  luxuriantly  cushioned  armchair, 
enjoying  his  usual  afternoon  nap — "father!"' 

''Oh,  ay — why — child! — my  dear!"  exclaimed 
]\Ir.  Leslie,  rubbing  his  eyes,  "what  can  be  the 
matter?"' 

"Listen,  sir,"  almost  whispered  his  daughter, 


6 


THE  8ISTEB  OF  CHARITY. 


whose  cheeks  gradually  assumed  the  hue  of  a 
lily's  leaf,  as  she  stood  a  moment  longer  by  his 
side,  with  one  fair  hand  grasping  his  shoulder, 
while  with  an  involuntary  motion  the  other  was 
quickly  pressed  on  her  heart. 

''Ay,  child,"  said  Mr.  Leslie,  now  thoroughly 
aroused,  and  speaking  in  a  grave  tone,  ''this  will 
be  a  wild  night  along  the  coast,  I  fear.  I  never 
heard  the  surf  beat  so  madly  on  the  beach  as 
now.  God  have  mercy  on  the  hardy  mariners 
who  are  out  on  the  sea  to-night!" 

"Father,  dear,  come  with  me  to  the  piazza; 
you  are  weather-wise,  come  forth  and  tell  me 
whether  this  storm  will  last  or  lull,"  exclaimed 
the  agitated  girl. 

"Blanche,  my  love,"  said  Mr.  Leslie,  pausing 
and  looking  with  astonishment  at  the  unusual 
excitement  of  manner  she  exhibited,  "one  would 
suppose  you  had  either  a  lover  or  brother  out  in 
the  storm  to-night.    But  come,  we  will  go." 

"Neither,  my  father,"  she  repHed  quickly, 
"but  you  forget  that  ere  this  our  cousin  St. 
Johns  is  homeward  bound ;  he  may  even  now  be 
on  board  some  gallant  ship  which  before  morn- 
ing may  lie  a  scattered  wreck  along  this  very 
shore." 

"Then  our  good  God  forbid!"  exclaimed  Mr. 
LesHe,  ardently.  "But,  my  child,  be  calm;  I 
have  never  seen  you  thus  moved  before." 

"I  know,  I  know,  that  these  tumultuous  feel- 


THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY, 


7 


ings  are  not  natural  to  me,  dearest  father;  I  fear 
nothing  for  myseh,  but,  oh!  some  strange,  sad 
presentiment  assures  me  that  human  Ufe  is  strug- 
gHng  in  wild  agonies  with  those  waves  whose 
loud  thunder  we  hear;  that  prayers  which  can 
only  be  heard  in  heaven  mingle  with  the  blast; 
that  ere  long  the  brave,  the  lion-hearted,  the 
fair  and  good,  will  go  dow-n  to  their  death  be- 
neath the  waters  of  yon  furious  ocean,  within 
hearing,  almost,  of  our  sheltered  home." 

''Be  calm,  my  sweet  child,"  again  said  Mr. 
Leslie,  drawing  her  tenderly  to  his  bosom  and 
smoothing  back  from  her  forehead  the  cluster- 
ing curls  which  hung  in  bright  masses  about  it; 
"our  good  God,  who  never  slumbers,  and  whose 
power  never  lessens,  will  protect  the  weather- 
beaten  w^anderers  of  the  sea  to-night.  Where 
is  Cora?" 

"She  stepped  out  a  moment  ago  to  arrange 
the  night-telescope  on  the  piazza.  She  is  in- 
fected with  the  same  fears  which  haunt  me;  but 
come,  father,  let  us  go  to  her,  and  gaze  on  the 
terrible  scene  without,"  said  Blanche,  as  she 
raised  a  rich  crimson  drapery;  then,  opening  the 
window  which  it  had  concealed,  they  stepped 
forth  to  view  the  storm. 

Mr.  Leslie's  house,  situated  on  a  high  eleva- 
tion on  the  southeastern  coast  of  North  Caro- 
lina, was,  like  the  mansions  of  other  wealthy 
planters,  spacious  and  handsome.    Each  story 


8 


THE  8ISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


of  the  side  towards  the  ocean  was  furnished  with 
a  highly  ornamented  piazza,  into  which  the 
handsome  double  windows  of  the  drawing- 
rooms  and  chambers  opened,  like  large  glass 
doors,  so  that  one  had  just  to  step  from  the  soft 
carpeted  floors  of  one  out  on  the  refreshing  mar- 
ble pavement  of  the  other.  Twisted  pillars, 
with  richly  carved  base  and  capitals,  supported 
the  light  and  elegant  pediments  of  each  piazza, 
while  the  roof,  protected  by  a  low,  broad  terrace, 
served  Mr.  Leslie  as  a  most  excellent  observa- 
tory, where  he  frequently  spent  whole  nights  in 
the  pursuit  of  his  favorite  science,  and  in  noting 
down  his  astronomical  observations  as  they  were 
made.  Oleander  and  orange  trees,  with  the 
broad-leafed  hydrangus  in  every  variety,  the 
graceful  palm  and  winding  cactus,  with  many 
other  plants  which  luxuriate  in  the  sea  air,  were 
arranged  with  tasteful  elegance  along  the  mas- 
sive balustrades,  between  the  pillars  of  the  piaz- 
zas, and  in  some  places  afforded  a  verdant  screen 
from  the  evening  sun,  whose  bright  light, 
divided  but  not  diminished  by  the  intervening 
leaves,  fell  in  characters  of  almost  intelligible 
beauty  along  the  marble  floor.  It  was  a  brave 
sight,  those  vast  billows  beyond,  bounded  in  by 
the  very  walls  of  the  upper  world;  sometimes  re- 
signed, like  slaves,  to  their  captivity,  and  bask- 
ing in  the  changing  hues  of  sunlight,  cloud  and 
heaven;  anon,  weary  of  such  repose,  calling  forth 


THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY, 


the  winds  from  their  deep  caverns,  with  ominous 
and  terrific  sounds,  while,  with  hoary  heads 
lifted  high  in  wrath,  they  seemed  to  defy  that 
power  which  said,  "Thus  far  shalt  thou  go  and 
no  farther."    Oftentimes  during  these  hours  of 
storm  and  tempest,  when  the  fair  sisters  of  El- 
verton  Hall  had  been  gazing  out  in  silent  awe 
on  the  dun,  wild  ocean,  some  poor  half-foun- 
dered bark,  with  bared  poles  and  strained  cord- 
age, has  been  driven  in  sight;  sometimes  poised 
high  on  the  summit  of  a  mountain  billow,  and 
standing  for  an  instant  in  sharp  relief  against 
the  gray  sky,  then  plunging  into  the  foaming 
abyss  beloAv;  anon  rising  and  falling  like  a  vdld 
phantom  with  the  billows,  appearing  and  disap- 
pearing, until  with  every  plunge   they  have 
thought  her  perilous  voyage  was  finished  forever. 
But  heretofore,  as  no  fatal  accident  had  ever 
occurred  on  that  part  of  the  coast,  the  stiblimity 
of  such  scenes  charmed  and  awed  always,  with- 
out terrifying  them.    Sunset  and  moonlight,  a 
cloudless  sky  or  shadows,  white-sailed  vessels 
moving  like  birds  over  calm  waters,  darkness  or 
light,  made  a  never-ending  panorama,  on  which 
they  gazed  and  never  felt  satiated — for  there 
was  to  them  a  mystic  poetry  in  the  sea;  its  low, 
mournful  murmurs,  its  tranquil  beauty  or  angry 
gloom,  its  hidden  treasures,  its  unseen  graves, 
its  legendary  tales,  its  caverns  of  coral  and  pearl, 
whose  floors  are  scattered  with  golden  sands,  its 


10  THE  SISTER  OP  CHARITY, 


power — tVirew  a  splendid  charm  around  their 
minds,  which  pleased  while  it  thrilled  their  in- 
most hearts  with  vague  terror. 

As  Mr.  Leslie  and  Blanche  stepped  out  on  the 
piazza  a  scene  at  once  subHme  and  awful  pre- 
sented itself.  Not  a  star  was  to  be  seen;  the  sky- 
was  covered  with  a  heavy  storm-cloud,  through 
which,  at  intervals,  like  angry  flashes  from  the 
all-seeing  eye,  vivid  lightnings  streamed,  and  the 
ocean,  goaded  to  fury  by  the  tempestuous  winds, 
was  covered  with  huge,  black  looking  billows, 
crested  with  wreaths  of  foam,  which,  glittering 
with  phosphoric  light,  added  new  and  wilder 
sublimity  to  the  scene.  Just  beyond  the  shore, 
about  half  a  mile  out,  lay  a  hidden  reef,  extensive 
and  dangerous.  Over  this  the  waters,  dashed, 
and  foamed,  and  sparkled,  like  a  whirlpool  of  fire, 
while  the  surf,  which  came  roaring  in  to  waste  its 
fury  on  the  shores,  looked  as  if  the  lightning  rode 
on  its  snowy  foam. 

'The  wind  sets  in,"  said  Mr.  Leslie,  ''but  I  see 
no  vessel  or  craft  of  any  kind.  God  grant  that 
all  may  be  safely  moored  under  the  friendly 
shores  of  the  bay!  Blanche,  dear,  order  the 
lights  to  be  extinguished  in  every  room  in  the 
house  except  our  sitting-room;  have  the  shut- 
ters in  that  closed,  the  ctirtains  closely  drawn, 
and  the  lamp  shaded.  Some  stranger  along  the 
coast  might  be  lured  amidst  the  breakers  by  a 
single  ray  from  those  windows." 


THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


11 


Blanche  soon  returned  and  stood,  pale  and 
silent,  leaning  on  her  sister's  shoulder,  while  her 
father  again  swept  the  horizon  with  his  glass. 
''I  see  nothing,"  he  at  last  said,  ''absolutely 
nothing;  the  most  careful  survey  detects  nothing 
but  clouds  and  waves,  and,  on  my  honor,  right 
glad  am  I  of  it,  for  with  such  a  wind  as  this,  with 
a  lee  shore  on  their  bows,  and  breakers  ahead,  no 
ship  could  expect  to  outride  the  storm,  unless 
it  might  be  the  doomed  craft  of  Vanderdecken 
and  his  phantom  crew.  Come,  my  dears,  let  us 
in.  Your  presentiments  are  false,  you  see,"  said 
Mr.  Leslie,  cheeringly. 

''God  grant  it!"  exclaimed  both  sisters,  ar- 
dently, as,  passing  their  arms  about  each  other's 
waist,  they  followed  their  father  into  the  elegant 
and  comfortable  sitting  room  which  they  had 
left  a  few  moments  before.  Blanche,  with  a 
calm  exterior,  but  still  troubled  heart,  resumed 
her  book,  while  Corinne,  at  her  father's  request 
(he  was  extravagantly  fond  of  music),  uncovered 
her  harp,  and  commenced  playing  one  of  his  fav- 
orite airs.  Mingling  with  the  deep-toned  dia- 
pason of  the  storm,  the  music  of  Corinne's  harp, 
and  the  still  clearer  melody  of  her  harmonious 
voice,  was  scarcely  heard  at  times,  but  again 
it  came  stealing  on  the  ear  in  sweet  contrast  to 
the  elemental  tumult  without,  and  reminded  the 
contemplative  Blanche  of  those  soft  whispers 
from  the  angels'  land,  which  om  heavenly 


12 


THE  8I8TER  OF  CHARITY, 


Father  sometimes  sends  to  cheer  us  amidst  the 
dark  ways  of  life.  Those  two,  Blanche  and  Cor- 
inne,  were  twins,  and  in  describing  the  personal 
appearance  of  one  we  describe  both.  They  were 
tall  and  delicately  formed,  with  high,  broad  fore- 
heads, from  which  their  glossy  auburn  hair, 
evenly  parted,  fell  in  natural  curls  over  their 
softly-tinted  cheeks.  Their  eyes  were  large  and 
brown,  with  ofttimes  that  indolently  beautiful 
expression,  as  they  looked  forth  from  the  shade 
of  their  long,  dark  eyelashes,  which  is  so  peculiar 
to  southern  beauty,  and  which  some,  unpoet- 
ically  enough,  have  called  sleepy,  but  which 
might  more  justly  be  styled  dreamy;  straight, 
well  formed  noses,  and  lips  Hke  the  heart  blush 
of  a  rose,  with  round,  dimpled  chins,  filled  up  the 
faultless  contour  of  their  faces.  But  if  they 
were  so  entirely  alike  in  their  physical  beauty — 
if  they  resembled  each  other  so  critically  as  re- 
gards external  advantages — there  were  certain 
expressions  at  times  predominant  in  their  coun- 
tenances which  enabled  one  to  distinguish  them 
without  difficulty.  Blanche  saw  the  world  and 
felt  all  the  dear  emotions  of  life  through  the 
most  dehcately  organized  sensibiHty;  there 
seemed  to  be  an  acute  current  of  feeling  between 
her  nature  and  the  mysteries  of  the  invisible 
world,  which  filled  her  soul  with  wild  visions  of 
beautiful  poetry,  while  it  imparted  a  hue  of  un- 
speakable and  sublime  glory  to  the  visible  things 


TEE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


13 


of  life.  Above  all,  a  solemn  and  never-forgetful 
reverence  towards  the  almighty  Creator  and 
Cause  of  all  good;  the  obligations  which  she,  as 
a  creature,  owed  him;  the  responsibilities  she 
felt  as  an  immortal  being  seemed  never  absent, 
with  their  holy  influences  about  her.  These  ele- 
vated feelings  gave  a  tone  of  native  dignity  and 
nobleness  to  her  aspect,  and  lent  an  expression 
of  such  intellectual  superiority  to  her  counten- 
ance as  demanded  involuntary  reverence  from 
all.  And  yet,  withal,  she  was  so  kind  and  gen- 
tle, so  equable  in  temper  and  manner,  that  the 
absence  of  that  busy  gayety  which  characterized 
her  sister  was  scarcely  to  be  regretted.  Corinne 
was  the  sunbeam  which  shed  gladness  through 
the  house;  it  was  a  rare  thing  to  see  a  cloud  on 
the  fair  young  creature's  brow,  or  the  lustre  of 
her  eyes  dimmed  with  an  oppressive  thought. 
Creation  looked  as  fair  to  her  as  it  did  to  the 
angels  of  God  when  the  "morning  stars  sang 
together,"  and  all  was  pronounced  by  the  Mas- 
ter hand  perfect.  In  the  gladness  and  purity  of 
her  heart  all  things  basked  in  the  glory  of  a  prim- 
ordial smile,  and  her  soul  reflected  back  to  hea- 
ven the  light  and  joy  it  had  given.  Sadness 
comported  not  with  her  ideas  of  gratitude  to  a 
beneficent  God.  Cheerful  gratitude,  like  the 
glad,  sweet  incense  from  a  flower,  was  her  daily 
though  unconscious  offering.  She  was  grateful 
for  all  that  made  life  a  blessing  to  her;  the  sight 


/ 


li  THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 

of  the  ocean  gleaming  in  the  red  sunset,  the 
song  of  a  mocking  bird,  the  scent  of  a  rare  flower 
or  the  gilding  on  a  cloud,  imparted  to  her  feel- 
ings a  childlike  glee,  and  the  exclamation  of 
"Oh,  how  beautiful!"  or  ''how  glad!"  or  ''how 
sweet!"  or  "how  happy!"  were  words  more  fre- 
quently on  her  lips  than  any  others;  then  her 
music,  and  her  low,  sweet  laugh,  kept  the  house 
in  a  perpetual  ebb  and  flow  of  cheerfulness. 
And  yet  of  the  two  Corinne's  character  was  more 
decided  than  that  of  Blanche;  her  mind,  less  en- 
thusiastic, was  more  steadily  poised  on  any  point 
which  required  nice  discrimination,  and  if  her 
sister's  intellectual  gifts  were  more  brilliant  than 
her  own,  because  more  spiritual,  her  positive  at- 
tainments in  the  branches  of  polite  learning  were 
of  a  less  superficial  character,  while  her  wit  and 
somewhat  hasty  temperament  made  a  nice  bal- 
ance between  the  two.  As  for  their  reHgion,  it 
was  of  no  particular  form  of  Protestantism. 
They  had  as  much  love  for  God  and  good-will  to 
men  as  was  consistent  with  a  certain  prejudice, 
not  the  less  strong  that  it  was  vague,  against 
Catholics  and  their  faith.  Their  father  had  al- 
ways been  a  man  of  contemplative  mind;  his  pen- 
etrating eye  had  sought  among  the  creeds,  with 
which  he  was  familiar,  in  vain  for  that  unity  of 
Faith,  which,  as  children  of  the  same  eternal 
Father,  all  should  have  acknowledged.  A  phil- 
osopher, standing  alone  and  scanning  with  keen 


TEE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


15 


eyes,  sentient  mind  and  unimpassioned  feelings 
the  Christian  world  around  him,  he  could  not 
comprehend  why,  like  men  blindfolded,  all 
seemed  groping  hither  and  thither  to  find  the 
''steep  and  narrow  road''  to  heaven.  He  was 
sure  there  was  some  defect,  either  in  the  faith  or 
morals  of  those  plausible  mystagogues,  who, 
w^ith  all  the  charms  of  human  eloquence  and  all 
the  erudite  arguments  of  profound  learning, 
could  not  persuade  their  flocks  that  the  fold  they 
were  in  w^as  the  safest  shelter,  or  teach  them  that 
unity  and  peace  were  spiritual  safeguards,  which 
would  protect  them  from  the  buffetings  of  the 
storm  and  tempest.  So  he  held  religious  com- 
munion with  none,  thinking  his  own  code,  which 
was  charity  towards  men,  belief  in  the  Holy  Trin- 
ity and  faith  in  God  through  Jesus  Christ,  was 
quite  as  good  as  those  creeds  which  seemed  to 
sow  discord,  instead  of  peace,  among  the  sons 
of  men.  The  minds  of  his  daughters  were  im- 
bued with  the  pecuHar  tinge  of  his  own;'  they 
saw  as  he  did,  and  could  not  but  acknowledge 
the  justness  of  his  conclusions.  And  yet,  withal, 
they  comprehended  not,  they  understood  not, 
that  as  belief  in  the  Holy  Trinity  is  necessary  to 
salvation,  so  was  there  a  trinity  in  Christian 
ethics,  composed  of  Faith,  Unity  and  Charity,  with- 
out which  all  rehgion  is  but  a  shadow,  a  mock- 
ery, a  hollow  deceit,  which  has  a  name  but  no 
substance,  and  lofty  pretensions,  which,  like  air- 


16 


THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


built  castles,  have  no  foundations  but  human 
and  ideal  inventions.  Such  was  the  reUgion  of 
the  Leslies — if  religion  it  can  be  called;  perhaps 
as  near  the  truth  as  it  could  be  expected  to  be, 
being  still  in  the  darkness  of  error. 

While  Cora  has  been  singing  "Auld  Robin 
Gray"  for  her  father,  we  have  given  a  hasty 
sketch  of  the  character  of  the  inmates  of  Elver- 
ton  Hall.  The  song  is  done  and  Cora  is  turn- 
ing away  from  her  harp,  when  Blanche,  acting 
from  the  impulse  of  her  saddened  feelings,  re- 
quested her  to  play  a  grand  and  solemn  requiem 
of  Mozart's,  which  was  a  peculiar  favorite  of  her 
own.  ''If  you,  dear  father,  do  not  think  it  too 
sad,"  she  said,  appealing  to  Mr.  Leshe. 

''No,  dears,"  said  Mr.  Leslie,  looking  with 
deep  affection  at  his  two  lovely  daughters;  "I 
have  no  choice,  now  that  'Auld  Robin'  is  dis- 
posed of,  and  that  requiem,  though  as  gloomy 
as  a  knight  templar's  funeral  rites,  will  accord 
well  with  the  sounds  without.  Open  your  piano 
and  accompany  Corinne." 

Soon,  rising  and  swelling  above  the  sounds 
of  the  raging  storm,  was  heard  the  solemn  mel- 
ody; they  forgot  the  tempest-tossed  sea,  and 
thought  not  of  shipwTeck,  or  death,  as  the  sub- 
lime music  of  the  ancient  master,  pealing  loudly 
or  rippling  low,  like  some  sweet  fountain, 
through  the  lofty  and  darkened  room,  reminded 
those,  beneath  whose  skilful  fingers  it  gushed 


TEE  SISTER  OF  CEIRITY. 


17 


forth,  of  all  that  was  grand,  holy,  or  ennobling; 
they  understood  the  sentiment,  the  soul,  the 
idea  of  the  music  too  well,  not  to  respond  effec- 
tively to  it,  as  it  touched  one  after  one  the  nicely 
balanced  emotions  of  their  pure  young  hearts. 

"Ah,"  whispered  ]\Ir.  Leslie,  "ho\y  grand!" 

But  suddenly  the  lofty  melody  was  hushed  by 
a  sound  of  terrific  meaning  to  each  heart  pres- 
ent, and  ere  anyone  could  speak,  and  while  the 
sisters  sat  gazing  on  their  father's  pale  face, 
while  their  hands  still  rested  above  the  chords 
which  they  had  so  suddenly  ceased  to  touch,  the 
same  sound  came  thundering  up  from  the  sea. 

^'It  is  a  minute  gun^''  said  Mr.  Leslie,  in  a 
grave  and  sorrowful  tone;  "your  forebodings, 
my  children,  were  true.  I  will  proceed  at  once 
with  the  overseer  and  twenty  of  the  strongest 
men  to  the  beach,  where,  I  trust,  we  may  be  of 
some  service." 

]\Ir.  Leslie  threw  his  cloak  about  his  shoul- 
ders and  went  forth  to  accomplish  his  benevo- 
lent purpose,  while  Blanche  and  Corinne  again 
stepped  forth  on  the  balcony.  The  storm  had 
abated  none  of  its  fury,  but  the  lightning  of  the 
clouds  above,  and  the  white,  phosphorescent 
glare  of  the  thundering  waves  below,  appeared 
as  if  engaged  in  wild  and  reckless  conflict,  and 
the  devoted  ship,  which  was  fast  driving  in  on 
the  breakers,  with  her  cargo  of  human  life  on 
board,  to  perish,  added  to  the  terrific  interest  of 


18 


THE  8I8TER  OF  CHARITY. 


the  scene,  while  the  flashes  which  streamed  from 
her  ports  when  the  minute  guns  were  fired  re- 
vealed the  forms  not  only  of  the  hardy  seamen 
who  tried  in  vain  to  manage  her,  but  groups  of 
women  and  children  clinging  to  each  other  in 
despair. 

''Save  them!  save  them,  oh,  God!  Thou  who 
didst  open  the  waves  of  the  sea  that  Thy  people 
might  pass  through;  Thou  who  didst  rebuke  the 
stormy  waves,  and  they  were  stilled;  Thou  who 
dost  ride  on  the  whirlwind  and  direct  the 
storm — save,  save  them,  oh,  God !  that  they  per- 
ish not  here  before  our  eyes,"  cried  Blanche,  fall- 
ing on  her  knees  and  lifting  her  hands  high 
towards  heaven.  Another  minute  gun  boomed 
on  the  air,  and  the  sisters  saw  a  boat,  which  had 
just  been  lowered,  crowded  with  human  beings, 
then  all  was  dark  again;  but  another  death-light 
flashing  from  her  ports  showed  her  among  the 
breakers.  It  was  the  last,  and  all  except  the 
howling  winds  and  waves  was  hushed — forever. 
The  planks  on  her  sides  and  bottom  were  soon 
torn  and  crushed  in  by  the  sharp  rocks  of  the 
sunken  reef,  and  the  gallant  hearts  that  throbbed 
with  life  and  hope  a  few  short  hours  before 
throbbed  no  more. 

Blanche  had  gazed  with  outstretched  arms 
towards  the  ill-fated  ship,  as  if  the  mere  act,  re- 
sponsive of  the  mighty  wish  and  will  within  her, 
could  aid  them;  but  when  she  saw,  by  the  mo- 


THE  SI8TER  OF  CHARITY. 


19 


mentary  lightning's  glare,  the  dark  hull  tossed 
amidst  the  luminous  breakers  and  whirled  for 
an  instant  on  the  maddened  waters,  Hke  a  feather 
on  the  blast,  then  in  a  moment  disappear,  she 
sprang  to  her  feet,  and  with  a  cry  of  agony  fell 
fainting  in  her  sister's  arms. 

''Blanche — sister — dear,  dear  Blanche,"  ex- 
claimed Corinne,  leading  her  with  difficulty  in, 
''lie  here;  rest  your  w^eary  head  on  these  soft  pil- 
low^s — there — speak  to  me  now;  open  your  eyes, 
my  sister." 

Corinne's  affectionate  words,  if  heard,  w^ere  un- 
heeded. The  spirit  of  Blanche  had  received  a 
shock  from  which  it  w^as  difficult  to  recover. 
The  events  of  the  past  hour  monopolized  every 
emotion  of  feeling  and  memory  to  such  a  degree 
that  there  was  no  room  left  for  new  impressions. 

"Sister!"  again  said  Corinne,  in  a  tone  of 
alarm. 

"Oh,  God!"  cried  Blanche,  suddenly  raising 
her  eyes  heavenward,  "their  doom  was  quick  and 
awful!  Have  mercy,  have  mercy  on  their  trem- 
bling souls!  In  the  clemency  of  Thy  sublime 
love,  remember  not  their  offences  against  them, 
but  grant  that  in  the  hour  of  judgment  each  re- 
pentant tear  and  each  contrite  prayer  offered  in 
the  hour  of  their  last  agony  may  be  registered 
with  their  names  in  Thy  book  of  life!" 

Such  was  the  prayer  which  her  noble  and  sen- 
sitive heart  prompted  Blanche  Leslie  to  utter; 

^  ■ 


20  THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY, 


she  was  scarcely  conscious  of  the  import  of  her 
words,  but  it  was  all  that  seemed  left  for  her  to 
do;  it  was  the  last  act  of  charity  she  was  capable 
of  showing  towards  those  unfortunate  beings, 
and  her  soul  felt  for  the  moment  consoled.  Cora 
listened,  but  the  idea  of  praying  for  the  souls  of 
the  dead  was  at  once  so  new  and  strange  that, 
although  it  appealed  to  all  the  more  tender  and 
womanly  emotions  of  her  heart,  she  could  but 
think  that  her  sister's  calmer  judgment  was  per- 
verted by  some  monstrous  and  unreasonable 
thought. 

''Let  us  hope  that  they  have  passed  away  thus 
suddenly  from  the  storm  and  tempest  of  life  to 
the  enjoyment  of  everlasting  peace,  my  sister," 
said  Cora,  in  a  grave,  calm  tone;  "this  is  all  that 
is  left  us  in  their  behalf." 

"Yes,"  said  Blanche,  after  a  long  pause;  "true, 
this  is  all — and  yet,  my  sister,  why  should  it  not 
be  so?  Surely  our  Lord  God,  so  merciful,  so 
beneficent,  so  tender  in  his  love  towards  his  crea- 
tures, may  have  provided  some  intermediate 
and  safe  shelter  for  those  who,  though  having 
loved  and  served  him  on  earth,  were  not  unde- 
filed  enough  to  enter  into  that  Presence  in 
whose  eyes  the  angels  themselves  are  not  with- 
out blemish.    Oh,  it  must  be  so!  it  must  be  so!" 

"Those  who  were  benighted  by  the  mysticisms 
of  the  dark  ages  held  some  such  doctrine,  I  be- 
lieve," said  Cora,  quietly. 


THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


21 


"If  SO,  it  was  enough  to  have  dispelled  their 
darkness,"  said  Blanche,  fervently;  ''it  is  so  con- 
soling, so  holy." 

''And  yet  our  father,  who  has  taught  us  all 
that  is  essential  to  our  eternal  welfare,  has  never 
named  such  a  doctrine." 

"True,"  said  Blanche,  as  with  a  troubled  ex- 
pression of  countenance  she  leaned  back  again 
and  closed  her  eyes.  A  sweet,  profound  slum- 
ber soon  reheved  her  wearied  body  and  over- 
taxed mind  from  further  perplexity. 


22 


TEE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


CHAPTER  11. 


"In  her  fond  arms  a  babe  she  press'd 

With,  such  a  wreathing  grasp, 
Billows  had  dash'd  o'er  that  still  breast, 

Yet  not  undone  the  clasp. 
The  child's  fair  tresses  brightly  hung 

Like  shreds  of  gold  around  its  form. 
Where  still  their  wet,  long  streamers  clung, 

All  tangled  by  the  storm." 

FRAID  of  disturbing  Blanche  by  moving 


about  or  turning  over  the  leaves  of  a 


book,  Corinne  drew  a  large  cushion  from 
a  lounge,  and,  laying  it  at  her  feet,  threw  herself 
wearily  on  it,  and,  half  resting  on  her  sister's 
knee,  determined  to  keep  watch  until  her 
father's  return.  An  hour  glided  by,  and  another, 
and  another,  which  seemed  longer  than  the  last, 
but  he  came  not;  and,  anticipating  something 
dreadful,  she  arose  softly,  without  disturbing 
Blanche,  and,  wrapping  a  large  cashmere  around 
her,  hurried  down  to  the  housekeeper's  room  to 
send  a  messenger  to  the  beach  to  learn  the  cause 
of  this  delay.  As  she  entered  the  lobby  that  led 
into  Mrs.  Murray's  room  and  was  cautiously  feel- 
ing her  way  through  the  darkness  to  the  door, 
her  fair  hands  came  in  contact  with  a  rough,  wet 


THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


23 


body,  that  seemed,  like  herself,  to  be  groping  its 
way  to  the  same  destination.  An  involuntary 
scream  burst  from  her  Hps,  while  a  loud,  snorting 
sound  and  a  terrible  crash  caused  good,  quiet 
Mrs.  Murray  to  start  from  her  chair  within,  and 
in  some  haste  open  the  door  to  learn  the  mean- 
ing of  this  nocturnal  uproar.  A  ruddy  glare 
from  the  fire  on  her  cheerful  hearth  and  well 
trimmed  lamp  streamed  through  the  open  door 
on  the  group  without,  and  revealed  one  of  the 
negro  men  lying  almost  senseless  with  fright 
among  a  heap  of  pails,  pewter  basins  and  dust 
pans  which  he  had  overturned  in  his  fall,  while 
his  hands  were  outstretched  and  his  eyes  almost 
starting  from  their  sockets  with  a  ludicrous  ex- 
pression of  terror. 

''Why,  Mingo!"  exclaimed  Cora. 

"Why,  missis!  Lor'  a'mighty,  missis!  beg 
your  pardon  for  sheering  you  so,  but  your  hands 
had  sich  a  cold  feel  Hke  on  my  face  I  thought 
it— it"  

''Was  a  ghost,"  interrupted  Corinne,  amused 
at  the  logical  turn  he  had  given  the  adventure. 
"But  get  up  and  tell  me  how  my  father  is,  and 
what  detains  him  so  long." 

"Why,  you  see,  missis,  he  been  and  had  fires 
made  all  'long  de  beach,  and  sot  all  our  folks  to 
watching  for  people  dat  were  wracked  in  dat  ere 
ship;  and,  you  see,  I  got  tired  standing  by  de 
fire,  and  walked  down,  close  to  de  water;  I  hadn't 


24  THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


been  dere  mor  nor  a  minit  when  a  great  sea  come 
bilin'  in  and  knocked  me  flat  o'  my  back  on  de 
sands,  and  when  I  scrambled  up,  missis,  I  felt 
something  heavy  on  my  feet,  and  when  I  looked 
it  was  a  dead  man,  what  de  surf  had  washed  up." 

"A  dead  man!"  said  Cora,  with  awe. 

*'Yes,  marm;  and  I  springed  up  in  sich  a  hurry 
dat  I  tumbled  smack  into  de  fire  behind,  and  if 
it  hadn't  bin  dat  de  surf  wet  my  clothes  sich  a 
fashion  I  should  ha'  bin  burnt  clean  up,  anyhow; 
I  hollered  out  so  loud  dat  all  our  folks  come  run- 
ning, and  got  to  me  just  in  time  to  keep  de  surf 
from  washing  de  dead  man  out  again." 

"But  your  master,  Mingo;  did  he  send  no  mes- 
sage?" 

''Lor',  missis!  beg  your  pardon,  marm;  b'lieve 
I  done  gone  clean  crazy  to-night,"  said  Mingo, 
fumbling  in  his  pocket,  and  handing  Cora  a  piece 
of  paper.    ''Mass'  told  me  to  give  you  dis." 

Cora  opened  the  paper  and  read  the  following 
note  from  her  father: 

**My  Dear  Child: 

"Do  not  be  uneasy;  I  am  well  and  safe.  Soon 
after  we  got  on  the  beach  one  or  two  bodies  were 
washed  ashore,  but  the  immortal  spark  had  fled 
forever;  thinking,  however,  that  the  Hfe  of  some 
one  of  that  ill-fated  crew  might  possibly  be 
spared,  I  ordered  fires  to  be  kindled  within  a 


TEE  SISTER  OF  CEIRITY. 


25 


short  distance  of  each  other,  extending  at  least 
a  mile  along  the  beach,  and  stationed  men  at 
each  to  watch  for  the  bodies  as  they  might  be 
thrown  on  shore,  that  immediate  aid  mi2:ht  be 
given  them  if  life  should  not  be  extinct.  As  yet 
our  labors  have  been  fruitless,  but  I  trust  in  the 
mercy  of  God  to  rescue  at  least  one  of  my  fellow- 
creatures  from  so  awful  a  death.  Persuade 
Blanche  to  go  to  rest  ;  but  you,  my  love,  whose 
nerves  are  stronger  than  hers,  go  to  ]\Irs.  Mur- 
ray and  request  her  to  have  beds,  fires,  coftee  and 
hot  stimulants  ready,  in  case  even  one  of  these 
shipwrecked  strangers  should  be  saved.  God 
bless  you  both,  darlings. 

''Philip  Leslie." 

^■'Dear,  noble-hearted  father!"  exclaimed  Cora. 
'"'Oh,  that  I  could  share  your  Samaritan  labors! 
But  come,  ^Ivs.  ^lurray,  we  must  be  stirring  our- 
selves. Here,  ]\Iingo,"  she  continued,  snatch- 
ing down  from  a  shelf  one  of  ^Irs.  ^lurray's  long- 
necked  cordial  bottles  and,  in  her  impatience, 
cracking  the  head  oft,  while  that  lady  was  so 
petrified  that  she  could  not  remonstrate,  and 
pouring  some  of  the  rich,  oily  beverage  into 
a  goblet,  handed  it  to  the  man.  "Drink 
this,  Mingo;  it  will  keep  you  from  seeing 
ghosts." 

"The  nigger  I"  muttered  ]\Irs.  Murray,  in  deep 
indignation;  "'it  will  make  him  see  double,  more 


26 


THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


like.  My  best  rose  cordial,  which  ought  only  to 
be  drank  a  thimbleful  at  a  time !  He'll  be  drunk, 
certain,  the  ugly  cretur!" 

Mingo  smacked  his  lips  and  rolled  his  eyes  in 
an  ecstacy  as  the  delicious  draught  trickled  in  a 
rich  stream  down  his  throat,  and,  as  he  set  the 
glass  down,  gave  vent  to  his  satisfaction  as  he 
wiped  his  sleeve  across  his  capacious  mouth  by 
an  expressive  ''Yah!"  which  so  infuriated  Mrs. 
Murray  that  she  seized  the  tongs,  and,  in  the 
impotency  of  her  rage,  commenced  an  insane 
battle  with  the  fire,  the  noise  and  flashing  sparks 
of  which  so  alarmed  her  cat,  which  had  been 
sleeping  quietly  on  the  bright  tiled  hearth,  that 
she  sprang  on  her  mistress'  shoulders,  utter- 
ing the  most  shocking  sounds  which  it  is  possi- 
ble for  a  cat  to  utter. 

Corinne,  almost  smothered  with  laughter,  was 
obliged  to  remain  calm  during  the  storm  she  had 
raised,  for  she  saw  that  the  good  old  lady's  dig- 
nity was  highly  offended;  so,  approaching  and 
smoothing  the  cat  gently  on  its  back,  she  said: 
"Down,  Trojan!  down,  sir!  don't  you  see  you 
have  frightened  your  mistress  by  your  ill  behav- 
ior? My  good  Mrs.  Murray,  let  Mingo  throw 
you  on  a  fresh  log  or  two;  then  be  kind  enough 
to  send  father  a  cold  chicken,  and  some  of  your 
own  nice  bread  in  this  Httle  basket,  and  a  bottle 
of  cordial." 

"The  overseer  came  up  about  an  hour  ago  for 


TEE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


27 


refreshments,"  said  Mrs.  Murray,  but  half  mol- 
lified. 

''Yes;  but  you  know  we  will  send  this  down 
particularly  to  father.  Your  preparations  can 
tempt  his  appetite  when  everything  else  fails. 
Shall  I  send  a  bottle  of  the  rose?" 

''There's  none  to  send,  miss,"  said  the  house- 
keeper, rising;  ''that  nigger  there  has  just  drank 
that,  that  was  only  fit  for  his  master  or  a  prince." 

"Do  not  blame  him,  my  good  Mrs.  Murray. 
I  thought  I  was  getting  a  bottle  of  spiced  brandy 
for  the  poor,  wet  fellow.  Cannot  you  find  some- 
thing else  as  good?" 

"Well,  Miss  Cora,  my  peach,  you  know,  has 
been  mightily  praised  by  the  quahty,  and  Mr. 
Leslie  hkes  it,"  she  replied,  now  quite  restored 
to  good  humor  with  Corinne,  but  still  casting 
dark  and  threatening  glances  at  Mingo,  who 
stood  with  the  most  provoking  smile  on  his 
broad  African  Hps,  as  much  as  to  say  that  he  had 
been  treated  as  a  gentleman  should  be  v/ho  had 
passed  through  such  adventvires  as  he  had. 

"Here,  Mingo,"  said  Cora,  giving  him  the  bas- 
ket, which  was  nicely  packed,  "tell  your  master 
to  be  sure  and  lake  some  refreshment — but  wait 
a  moment!"  she  cried,  snatching  the  lamp  from 
the  table  and  running  hastily  out.  She  returned 
in  a  moment  or  two  with  a  pillow,  one  or  two 
shawls,  and  a  large  cloak  Hned  Vvith  fur,  which 
she  consigned  to  the  man's  car e,_saying_" they 


28 


TEE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY, 


might  be  needed,"  then  hurried  him  off,  with 
many  charges  to  make  haste. 

''Now,  my  good  Mrs.  Murray,"  said  she,  ''call 
my  maid  for  me.  I  will  take  her  up  stairs  with 
me  to  prepare  the  beds  and  kindle  good  fires; 
and  do  you,  if  you  please,  have  everything  just 
as  my  father  requested — hot  coffee,  spiced  drinks 
and — rose  cordial,"  she  said  to  herself,  laugh- 
ingly, as  she  tripped  up  stairs. 

Very  soon  the  active  and  master  spirit  of  Cor- 
inne  and  the  nimble  hands  of  Amy  had  com- 
pleted every  arrangement  necessary  for  the  com- 
fort of  the  strange  and  homeless  guests  who 
were  expected.  A  beautiful  home-look  per- 
vaded the  guest-chambers,  and  that  indescriba- 
ble air  of  elegance  which  can  only  be  imparted 
by  refined  taste  and  woman's  hand. 

"Now,  Amy,  we  have  finished,"  said  Corinne, 
cheerfully;  "do  you  remain  here,  while  I  run  to 
my  sister.  But,  bless  us  all!  I  have  forgotten  the 
sal-volatile  and  the  flannel.  Ah,  here  are  the 
flannel  garments.  Just  hang  them  by  the  fire, 
Amy,  while  I  look  for  a  flesh  brush  and  my  vin- 
aigrette." 

The  door  opened,  and  Blanche  entered  with 
so  pale  a  countenance  that  Corinne,  in  alarm, 
threw  down  the  articles  for  which  she  had  been 
seeking,  and,  running  forward,  lent  her  the  sup- 
port of  her  embracing  arm. 

"Blanche,  dear,  are  you  ill?"  cried  Cora. 


TEE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


29 


"No,  darling,  not  ill,  but  soul-weary.  Has 
our  father  yet  come?" 

''No;  I  received  a  note  from  him  an  hour  ago. 
Here,  dear,  read  it,"  said  Cora,  drawing  the  note 
from  her  bosom;  "it  has  kept  me  so  busy  that  I 
have  not  had  a  moment  to  spare  to  come  to  you. 
Sit  here,  Blanche;  you  are  cold,  and  shiver,"  con- 
tinued Cora,  wheeling  a  large,  cushioned  arm- 
chair near  the  fire. 

"1  fear  I  am  selfish,  my  sister,"  replied 
Blanche,  kissing  her  tenderly,  as  she  took  the 
kindly  proffered  seat  and  opened  her  father's 
note.  ''Yes,  selfish — worse  than  selfish!"  she 
exclaimed,  after  reading  its  contents.  "There 
sat  I,  brooding  over  gloomy  fancies  and 
weeping  hopelessly  over  those  who  have  per- 
ished, while  my  brave-hearted  father  and  no- 
ble sister  have  been  toiling  to  rescue  from 
the  waves  and  death  those  who,  through 
the  mercy  of  God,  may  float  in  on  the 
stormy  wave  to  the  shore.  Dear  Cora,"  she 
said,  rising  with  an  effort,  while  her  cheeks  wore 
the  flush  of  self-reproval,  "let  me  do  something; 
let  me  aid  you  in  some  way.    What  shall  I  do?" 

"Thou  fragile  lily!"  said  Cora,  as,  with  a  tear 
in  her  eye,  she  approached,  and,  seating  herself 
in  the  capacious  chair  by  her  sister's  side,  drew 
her  head  to  her  breast  and  enclosed  her  tenderly 
in  her  arms,  "do  this;  rest  this  head  on  my  breast 
and  quiet  the  throbbings  of  this  frightened  heart. 


30  THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


There  is  naught  else  for  you  to  do  now,  thou 
pale,  fragile  one,  except  this;  but  listen!  Go, 
Amy,  and  see  if  my  father  comes." 

"I  hear  them,  surely,"  said  Blanche,  in  a  low, 
agitated  voice.  'There!  heard  you  not  our 
father's  voice,  Cora?" 

"True;  they  ascend  the  staircase.  Stay  here, 
dear  Blanche — or  perhaps  you  had  better  retire 
to  your  own  room;  I  will  meet  them,"  said  Cor- 
inne,  also  slightly  agitated. 

*'I  will  remain,"  said  Blanche,  firmly.  'T  may 
be  of  some  use  if  service  is  required;  but  go,  Cora, 
go.  Ah!"  she  whispered,  ''from  the  slow  and 
measured  sounds  of  those  muffled  footsteps; 
from  the  low,  reverent  tones  in  which  they  speak, 
sure  am  I  that  they  bring  hither  some  rescued 
soul.  Oh,  God  !  grant  it  in  mercy,  and  if  /le  has 
perished — but  be  nerved,  my  heart;  they  come." 
As  these  thoughts  glanced  rapidly  through  the 
mind  of  Blanche  LesHe  the  door  was  gently 
opened,  and  her  father  and  Corinne,  with  two 
men,  bore  in  a  form,  enveloped  in  cloaks  and 
shawls,  and  laid  it  tenderly  on  the  bed.  An- 
other of  the  men  followed  immediately,  holding 
a  large  bundle  hugged  closely  to  his  broad,  stal- 
wart chest,  from  the  folds  of  which  escaped  two 
or  three  long,  bright  ringlets  of  hair,  dripping 
with  sea  water.  This  he  laid  on  another  bed  in 
the  room,  towards  which  Mr.  Leslie  called 
Blanche,  and,  pressing  a  hasty  kiss  on  her  fore- 


THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


31 


head,  whispered:  ''It  is  a  child,  my  love;  a  young, 
beautiful  child.  She  breathes,  thank  God!  but 
must  be  well  rubbed.  Do  everything  that  you 
can  do.  I  have  sent  for  a  physician;  meanwhile 
Cora  and  Amy  will  attend  to  the  lady.  Ah,  here 
is  Mrs.  'Muvmy;  she  will  assist  you.  I  must  leave 
you  noW'  and  return  to  the  beach  with  my  men, 
who  shall  have  shortly  a  brave  hohday  for  their 
night's  work.  We  may  be  so  fortunate  as  to 
rescue  more." 

Blanche  opened  the  folds  of  the  heavy  gar- 
ments that  enveloped  her  charge,  and  beheld  a 
beautiful,  fair  child,  some  four  summers  old, 
whose  rich  garments,  dripping  with  the  baptism 
of  death,  clung  in  graceful  folds  to  the  rounded 
proportions  of  her  form.  Her  little,  dimpled 
hands  clutched  convulsively  a  portion  of  her 
dress,  as  if  nature,  and  its  love  of  life,  had  in- 
stinctively prompted  her  to  cling  to  something 
for  preservation.  x\  pink  kid  slipper  adorned 
one  little  foot;  the  other  was  bare,  and  in  its 
white  and  perfect  symmetry  looked  like  a  frag- 
ment from  some  rare  antique  marble.  Tears 
gushed  from  the  eyes  of  Blanche,  and  again  her 
vivid  fancy  reverted  to  the  last  scenes  on  board 
that  ill-fated  bark.  This  dear  being,  she  imag- 
ined, the  angel  of  some  fond  household,  lay  at 
the  perilous  moment  all  unconscious  on  the 
breast  of  a  tender  mother  who,  with  palHd  cheeks 
and  cold,  trembling  fingers,  tried  to  avert  the 


32  THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


horrible  reality  of  danger  by  performing  for  the 
dear  one  all  those  little  offices  of  affection  and 
care  which  its  helplessness  claimed.  One  foot 
had  been  bared,  the  dress  unloosened.  An  ex- 
clamation from  Corinne  interrupted  this  painful 
train  of  thought,  and,  leaving  the  child  in  Mrs. 
Murray's  care,  she  hastened  to  her.  There  she 
saw,  for  the  first  time,  the  person  to  whom  they 
had  been  attending.  It  was  a  lady,  who  had 
probably  numbered  twenty-five  summers,  whose 
pale  and  finely-chiselled  features  indicated  a  high 
degree  of  intellectual  superiority,  as  well  as  phy- 
sical beauty.  A  curious  and  close-fitting  black 
cap  surrounded  her  face,  and  half  shaded  the 
spiritual  and  noble  formation  of  her  fine  fore- 
head. Long  black  eyelashes  fell  like  two  brood- 
ing shadows  on  her  white  cheeks,  while  the 
evenly-arched  brows  above  looked  as  if  some  fas- 
tidious artist  had  pencilled  them  as  a  proper 
model  for  the  strictest  line  of  beauty.  She  was 
clothed  in  a  long,  full  dress  of  coarse  black  serge, 
fitting  high  and  close  around  the  throat,  but  it 
had  been  loosened  and  thrown  open,  that  her 
attendants  might  with  greater  facility  bathe  and 
rub  her  chest,  and  revealed  a  neck  and  shoulders 
of  exquisite  fairness  and  delicacy  of  mould.  One 
white,  rounded  arm  was  bared,  and  the  long, 
tapering  fingers  clasped  a  chaplet  of  black  beads, 
from  which  depended  a  bronze  crucifix;  this  was 
clasped  to  her  heart  with  a  tight  grasp,  which 


THE  SI8TER  OF  CHARITY. 


33 


could  only  have  been  made  in  the  agony  of  death, 
while  the  other  remained  buried  in  the  folds  of 
her  ample  serge  sleeve,  and  hung  listlessly  by  her 
side.  Corinne  and  Amy  had  been  making  use 
of  the  most  vigorous  measures  to  effect  her  re- 
covery, which  nature  now  successfully  assisted, 
for,  after  a  few  slight  gasps  and  spasmodic  shud- 
ders, she  opened  her  large,  soft  eyes,  and,  as  her 
kind  nurses  Hfted  her  head,  a  large  quantity  of 
sea  water  was  ejected  from  her  mouth;  after 
which  she  again  sank  back,  exhausted,  on  the 
pillows,  and,  gazing  for  a  moment  wildly  around 
her,  closed  her  eyes  quickly,  and,  crushing  two 
heavy  tear-drops  between  the  lids,  she  raised  the 
crucifix  and  pressed  it  to  her  lips,  which  moved 
in  silent  prayer.  Those  who  stood  around  this 
pale  and  solemn-looking  being,  who  had  but  a 
short  hour  ago  been  cradled  in  the  arms  of 
death,  and  who  may  have  had  strange  revela- 
tions of  the  invisible  world,  were  awed,  nor  cared 
to  intrude  on  her  sacred  silence.  Blanche  glided 
back  to  the  lovely  child,  which  also  began  to 
show  more  decided  symptoms  of  returning  life. 
Her  little  hands  loosened  their  death-grasp  on 
her  garments  and  her  head  moved  uneasily  from 
side  to  side,  and  as  Mrs.  Murray,  with  a  vague 
idea  that  a  more  perpendicular  position  would 
render  her  comfortable,  raised  her  in  her  arms, 
her  chest  was  also  relieved  of  the  quantity  of  sea 
water  which  had  oppressed  it,  and,  opening  her 


34 


THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


eyes,  she  looked  with  a  wild,  frightened  glance 
around,  while  the  word  "Mamma,"  pronomiced 
in  a  frantic  accent,  thrilled  through  the  hearts  of 
all  present.  By  this  time  the  family  physician 
had  arrived,  who  pronounced  both  patients  to 
be  in  rather  a  critical  state  from  previous  excite- 
ment and  subsequent  exhaustion. 

''But  they  may  recover,  Doctor?"  inquired 
Corinne. 

''Oh,  yes;  yes,  my  dear  young  lady,  surely. 
Warm  baths,  frictions  gently  applied,  soft,  warm 
clothing,  a  cup  of  nice  tea,  then  a  composing 
draught,  will  restore  them  entirely.  By  ten 
o'clock  to-morrow  they  will  be  as  well  as  you 
or  I." 

"Well,  alas,  Doctor!  well!  how  keenly  will  they 
feel  to-morrow  the  loss  of  those  from  whom  they 
have  been  so  cruelly  separated — ay,  separated 
forever!"  said  Corinne,  bursting  into  tears  for 
the  first  time. 

The  doctor  shrugged  his  shoulders,  took  snuff 
violently,  and  turned  abruptly  away  to  hide  a 
tear.  The  directions  of  the  physician  were  mi- 
nutely attended  to,  and  success  crowned  the  ef- 
forts of  those  kind  Samaritans  who  had  thus 
made  the  cause  of  the  suffering  stranger  their 
own.  "Blessed  are  the  merciful,"  says  the  divine 
oracle,  "for  they  shall  obtain  mercy."  Charity 
and  loving  kindness  towards  those  we  love  are 
worthy  of  commendation,  as  the  ways  of  the 


THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


35 


world  now  go,  but  kindness  and  charity  towards 
those  who  know  us  not,  and  who  are  strangers 
to  us,  is  one  of  the  subhme  principles  taught  by 
the  Prince  of  Peace,  and  by  the  practice  of  which 
His  children  shall  be  known. 


THE  8ISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE  STRANGER— THE  RAINBOW— THE 
LETTER. 

CORINNE  touched  her  repeater,  and  it 
struck  five.  She  approached  a  window, 
and,  pushing  aside  the  curtain,  looked 
out,  hoping  to  see  some  promise  of  a  day  whose 
brightness  would  dispel  every  vestige  of  the 
dreary  storm,  but  there  was  no  beam,  no  kin- 
dling ray  streaming  through  a  torn  cloud  like  a 
torrent  of  light;  no  roseate  hue,  or  regal  banners 
floating  in  the  orient,  or  mists  bathed  in  Hquid 
gold  rolling  up  from  the  quiet  earth.  No;  all 
was  chill  and  sad.  The  dawn  was  lifting,  like  a 
pale,  shadowy  hand,  the  clouds  which  still  darkly 
curtained  the  sky,  and  a  wan,  sickly  light  quiv- 
ered with  a  melancholy  and  lambent  tinge  on  the 
seething  waters  of  the  still  troubled  sea.  She 
turned  shivering  away,  and,  on  approaching  the 
bed  of  their  stranger  guest,  was  surprised  to  find 
her  awake  and  in  a  reclining  position,  with  her 
pale  round  cheek  resting  on  her  hand,  gazing 
down  on  her  crucifix  and  chaplet.  Tear  after 
tear  rolled  in  torrents  over  her  cheeks,  nor  did 
she  check  or  even  wipe  them  off;  she  seemed  un- 


THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


37 


conscious  that  they  were  fahing,  even  when,  on 
lifting  her  crucifix  to  her  Hps,  her  hand  became 
wet  with  them.  She  suddenly  raised  her  eyes, 
and,  seeing  Corinne,  inquired  hastily,  "Did  all 
perish,  lady?" 

"Wq  hope  not,  madam."  she  repHed;  ''at  all 
events  you,  with  your  lovely  child,  have  been 
saved." 

"]\Iy  child!  How?  Do  you  not  under- 
stand " 

But  Corinne,  in  her  eagerness  to  impart  peace 
and  joy  to  a  stricken  heart,  ran,  and,  gently  lift- 
ing the  sleeping  and  beautiful  child,  bore  her  in 
her  arms  to  the  lady,  and,  turning  the  cherub- 
like face  towards  her,  whispered,  "Your  child, 
lady." 

''My  child!  Alas!  poor  orphan!  poor  little 
Irene!"  she  said,  caressing  her  and  softly  kissing 
her  flushed  cheeks.  "Lay  her  down,  lady.  Oh, 
Jesu!  Lord!  how  selfish  is  even  our  love  for 
Thee — Thou  who  canst  alone  stay  and  protect 
us — since  all  things  else  that  we  love  and  lean  on 
in  earth  are  nothing  more  substantial  than  a 
fleeting  cloud,  or  a  flower  that  perisheth  in  the 
evening  blast.  At  sunrise  yesterday  that  fair 
babe  was  the  idol  of  fond  parents,  the  heiress  of 
uncounted  wealth,  and  ere  another  could  glad- 
den the  earth  they  are  snatched  from  her  for- 
ever; their  hoarded  wealth  buried  in  caverns 
which  shall  only  be  unsealed  on  the  morning-  of 


38  THE  8I8TER  OF  CHARITY, 

the  resurrection,  and  she,  the  lonely  angel, 
thrown  on  the  charity  of  a  cold  world."  Her 
emotions  interrupted  for  a  moment  the  eloquent 
language  of  her  heart.  ''Oh,  Mother  of  Sor- 
rows, be  thou  her  friend  and  guide — thou  to 
whom  the  lonely  and  grief-stricken  flee  for  pity!" 
Tears  again  interrupted  her  touching  words,  and 
she  buried  her  face  in  the  pillow  and  wept  con- 
vulsively. 

"Be  calm,  dear  lady,"  said  Corinne,  weeping; 
"our  heavenly  Father,  who  rescued  her  from  the 
waves,  will  also  rescue  her  from  the  ills  of  hfe." 

"You  are  right;  you  are  right!  The  ways  of 
God,  though  mysterious,  are  just  and  merciful. 
I  thank  you  for  the  timely  lesson,  lady,"  she  re- 
plied. She  again  closed  her  eyes,  and,  crossing 
her  hands,  with  a  beautiful  expression  of  resigna- 
tion, on  her  breast,  was  silent. 

On  the  afternoon  of  the  next  day,  which  amply 
repaid  by  its  brightness  the  horrible  gloom  of 
those  preceding  it,  the  strange  lady,  whose  life 
had  been  saved  by  the  kind  exertions  of  this  no- 
ble and  generous  family,  was  reclining  in  a  deep- 
cushioned  chair  in  the  western  drawing-room  of 
Elverton  Hall,  and  Blanche,  on  a  low  ottoman, 
sat  at  her  feet,  with  her  sweet,  spiritual  face  up- 
lifted to  hers,  and  listening  with  rapt  attention 
to  the  words  which  fell  from  her  lips;  while  ever 
and  anon  she  brushed  away  a  tear  that  over- 
flowed her  eyes.    The  stranger  was  still  clad  in 


m 

TEE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY.  39 

those  dark,  flowing  robes,  which  now  effectually 
concealed  the  symmetrical  proportions  of  her 
figure  and  threw  out  in  strong  relief  the  white- 
ness of  her  small,  perfectly-formed  hands,  and 
the  exquisitely  delicate  beauty  of  her  intellectual 
face.  A  whispering,  and  a  smothered  laugh  at 
one  of  the  windows  near  them,  caused  Blanche 
to  turn  her  head  in  time  to  see  Corinne  thrust- 
ing in  the  little  Irene,  who,  reassured  by  the 
sweet  smiles  that  greeted  her,  marched  past 
them,  saying  in  her  almost  unintelligible  jargon, 
''Ain't  me  pitty?"  Blanche  caught  her  in  her 
arms  and  kissed  her  fresh,  bright  cheeks,  and  the 
lady,  faintly  smiling,  laid  both  hands  on  her 
bright  head,  and  pressed  her  Hps  for  a  moment 
on  her  pure,  blue-veined  forehead.  Truly  she 
was  beautiful!  Corinne  had  manufactured  an 
exquisite  little  dress  for  her,  and  from  an  old 
family  receptacle  had  taken  the  last  pair  of  col- 
ored slippers  worn  by  Blanche  and  herself  when 
of  the  same  age,  and  which  admirably  fitted 
Irene's  symmetrical  little  feet.  Mrs.  Murray 
had  preserved  them  with  special  care,  and  had 
they  been  withdrawn  from  the  place  where  she 
had  hidden  them  for  seventeen  years  under  dif- 
ferent circumstances  she  would  have  thought  it 
little  less  than  sacrilege.  Her  long,  silken  hair 
fell  in  bright,  curling  masses  over  her  shoulders, 
and  Corinne  had  twined  a  wreath  of  roses  over 
her  sunny  brow,  which  contrasted  well  with  its 


40  TEE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY.^ 


rare  purity.  The  round,  dimpled  shoulders  and 
perfect  arms  were  freely  exposed  by  looping  up 
each  sleeve  with  a  half-blown  rose. 

"Is  she  not  beautiful?"  whispered  Corinne. 

''Beautiful,  indeed!"  replied  Blanche. 

''Come,  Peri-bird,  come,"  cried  Corinne, 
catching  her  in  her  arms;  "let  us  run  out  and 
have  a  romp  on  those  nice,  soft  cushions;  only 
see,  you  bird,  how  the  flowers  shake  their  leaves 
down  in  play;  and  the  birds  live  there.  Come, 
let  us  peep  at  them." 

"The  child  is  a  relative  of  yours,  madam?"  in- 
quired Blanche. 

"She  is  not.  During  the  sickness  and  fa- 
tigues incident  to  a  long  voyage  her  amiable 
parents  showed  me  much  friendly  attention.  I 
cannot  yet  talk  with  sufficient  composure  of  any- 
thing connected  with  that  ill-fated  ship  to  be 
more  particular  now.  In  a  day  or  two  I  will 
enter  more  into  detail.  I  had  no  relatives  on 
board." 

"Thank  God,"  said  Blanche,  fervently,  "that 
for  you,  at  least,  no  ties  have  been  broken!" 

"Earthly  ties!  dear  child,  how  vain  are  they! 
how  little,  how  less  than  nothing  when  compared 
with  things  which  are  eternal!"  replied  the  lady, 
pressing  Blanche's  hand,  and  looking  towards 
heaven.  "Some  years  ago,  when  I  took  the 
vows  of  my  order,  I  fondly  thought  that,  except 
the  suffering  and  sorrowing,  the  bruised  in  spirit 


TEE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


41 


and  the  sin-weary,  earth  could  contain  naught 
to  win  me.  I  thought  hfe  itself  valueless,  when 
compared  with  my  sacred  duties  and  their  ever- 
lasting consequences;  but  in  that  awful  moment, 
when  death  seemed  inevitable,  how  I  clung  to 
life!  Oh,  how  instantaneously,  how  vividly — 
nay,  how  almost  miraculously — was  every  ac- 
tion, every  idle  thought  and  vain  desire,  pictured 
to  my  mind's  eye!  Things  deemed  of  little  mo- 
ment— words  heedlessly  spoken,  privileges  un- 
appreciated and  hours  of  wasted  time — how  they 
rose  in  judgment  against  my  soul!  How  it 
shrunk!  how  it  lamented!  how  cold  seemed  the 
devotion,  how  shallow^  the  repentance  which  had 
filled  it  in  the  hours  of  life,  which  seemed  fled 
forever!  How  little  had  it  done;  how  little  had 
it  loved  the  supreme  and  merciful  Lord!  I  was 
unprepared  for  yon  pure  abode,  and  have  been 
spared  for  repentance." 

"But  the  mercies  and  merits  of  Christ,"  sug- 
gested Blanche. 

"Are  all  which  under  any  circumstances  can 
save  the  soul,"  replied  the  lady,  quickly;  "but 
the  soul  must  first  correspond  purely  and  sin- 
cerely with  those  graces  which  they  afford  us. 
Works  are  nothing,  dear,  if  not  animated  by  the 
spirit  of  the  love  of  God;  they  are  Hke  painted 
flowers — fair,  but  without  that  sweet  odor  which 
alone  can  penetrate  the  abode  which  is  sanctified 
by  His  holy  presence." 


42 


THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


"You  spoke,  Madam,  of  vows,  and  an  order; 
may  I  inquire  the  meaning  of  your  words?"  in- 
quired Blanche. 

"Is  it  possible,"  remarked  the  lady,  "that  I 
am  the  first  Sister  of  Charity  you  have  ever 
seen?" 

"Sister  of  Charity!  can  it  be  possible?"  said 
Blanche,  looking  reverently  at  her.  "Little  did 
I  ever  expect  to  entertain  or  serve  one  of  those 
angels  of  the  earth,  revered  alike  by  saint  and 
sinner!  We  have  heard  of  the  heroic  acts  of 
these  sisters  during  seasons  of  famine,  pestilence 
and  war,  and  wondered  how  dehcate  women 
could  brave  those  dangers  from  which  hardy 
men  have  shrunk.  Oh,  how  I  venerate  you!" 
said  Blanche,  enthusiastically  kissing  her  hand. 

"You  may  venerate  without  sin  the  spirit  of 
our  holy  order,  dear,"  said  the  sister,  quietly; 
"but  I,  the  most  unworthy,  deserve  not  your 
praise.    Are  you  a  CathoHc,  my  child?" 

"According  to  the  literal  meaning  of  the  word, 
my  rehgion  is  Catholic.  Our  father,  with  per- 
haps a  singular  fancy,  has  never  attached  him- 
self to  any  particular  creed.  He  found  fault 
with  the  systems  of  all,  as  being  too  subject  to 
change  and  dissension,  I  believe.  He  pro- 
nounces them  all  imperfect,  and  cannot  reconcile 
their  glaring  inconsistencies  with  the  immutable 
character  of  that  Great  Being  from  whom  they 
all  profess  to  have  derived  their  various  peculiar 


THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


43 


creeds.  He  has  taught  us  to  love  God  su- 
premely, and  exercise  charity  and  good-will 
towards  all  men — and  in  fact  to  cherish  all  those 
Christian  virtues  which  he  daily  practices.  So, 
you  see,  our  creed  is  as  pure  as  it  is  simple,"  re- 
plied Blanche. 

"And  right  so  far  as  it  goes,  dear,"  answered  ' 
the  sister;  ''but  did  your  excellent  father  never 
speak  of  the  CathoUc  rehgion  as  being  exempt 
from  the  errors  of  which  he  so  justly  com- 
plains?" 

"I  have  heard  him  say,  once,  that  from  its  an- 
tiquity it  was  entitled  to  our  respect,  and  that 
as  a  system  it  was  perhaps  more  perfect  in  its  in- 
tegral parts  than  any  other;  but  that  it  had  also 
fallen  into  many  superstitious  errors,"  said 
Blanche. 

'You  have,  of  course,  read  the  holy  Scrip- 
tures," observed  the  sister. 

"Oh,  yes,"  repHed  Blanche,  earnestly; 
"through  and  through,  particularly  the  New 
Testament." 

"You  must  have  remarked,  then,  certain  pass- 
ages w^herein  our  Lord  refers  particularly  to 
the  Church,"  continued  the  sister. 

"Of  course,"  replied  Blanche. 

"You  cannot  believe  that  when  our  Saviour 
says  in  plain  and  express  terms,  'Thou  art  Peter; 
and  upon  this  rock  I  will  build  my  Church,  and 
the  gates  of  hell  shall  not  prevail  against  it,'  He 


44 


THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


referred  to  a  thing  which  did  not  exist,  or  would 
have  given  as  a  rule  to  His  disciples  this  sen- 
tence:  'And  if  he  will  not  hear  them,  tell  the 
Church;  and  if  he  will  not  hear  the  Church,  let 
him  be  unto  thee  as  a  heathen  and  a  publican,' — • 
if  the  Church  of  which  he  spoke  had  been  a  mere 
figure  of  speech?" 
"Undoubtedly  not." 

''And  has  it  never  struck  you  that  there  ex- 
ists somew^here,  among  some  of  the  numerous 
creeds  who  profess  Christ,  a  one  true  Church, 
which,  endowed  with  the  splendid  gift  of  the 
Holy  Ghost  'until  the  end  of  time,'  has  endured 
through  all  past  ages?" 

"It  seems  probable,  indeed,"  said  Blanche. 

"This  admitted,  you  must  beheve  that  such 
a  Church  could  be  founded  only  by  the  God-Man 
himself." 

"Such  thoughts  have  sometimes  perplexed 
me,"  said  Blanche,  earnestly,  "and  my  soul  has 
frequently  experienced  the  insufficiency  of  the 
simple  creed  I  have  been  taught,  to  impart  the 
consolations  it  needed.  Oh!  it  has  yearned  for 
something  more  defmite,  more  visible,  and  more 
nearly  approaching  God — a  something  more  re- 
sembling its  own  eternity  I" 

"Believe  me,  dear,  this  Church  exists;  it  is  the 
'fold  of  which  Christ  is  the  Shepherd;'  'the  body 
of  which  He  is  the  Head;'  the  'Spouse  of  the 
bridegroom;'  the  'habitation  and  rest  of  God 


TBE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


45 


forever/  and  'the  pillar  and  ground  of  Truth/ 
which  will  never  change  or  fail." 

'T  beHeve  it/'  said  Blanche,  gravely;  ''and 
now,  since  you  have  opened  this  new  train  of 
thought  in  my  mind,  it  occurs  to  me  that  the 
mission  of  Christ  would  have  been  incomplete 
without  it." 

"True.  Infinite  Wisdom,  which  had  already 
accomplished  so  much  in  the  perfect  plan  of  our 
salvation,  founded  a  Church  on  the  same  eternal 
basis,  that  His  children  should  wander  no  more, 
tossed  hither  and  thither  on  the  current  of  wild 
opinion,  but  have  a  fold — a  second  heavenly 
Eden — so  guarded  by  the  flaming  sword  of  the 
Holy  Ghost  that  the  wily  spirits  of  hell  cannot, 
dare  not,  enter  therein.  Safely  sheltered  in  this 
holy  sanctuary,  the  soul  can  comprehend  the 
meaning  of  Faith,  and  understand  the  mystical 
union  between  God  and  man.  In  vain  may  'the 
rains  descend,  the  floods  come,  and  the  winds 
blow  and  beat  on  it;'  it  will  fall  not,  for  its  foun- 
dation  is  the  Rock  of  Ages." 

"It  is  strange,"  said  Blanche,  musingly,  "and 
perhaps  true." 

"We  will  renew  this  conversation  some  other 
time,"  said  the  Sister  of  Charity,  rising  and  ten- 
derly encircling  the  waist  of  Blanche  with  her 
arm.  "Come  with  me  to  the  eastern  piazza;  I 
would  look  on  yon  bright  though  terrible  ocean, 
whose  rest  is  as  deceitful  as  the  momentary  calm 


46  THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


of  a  maniac's  mind.  But  I  have  with  strange 
discourtesy  neglected  to  tell  you  my  name,  and 
you,  with  rare  delicacy,  have  forborne  to  ask  it. 
Call  me  hereafter  Sister  Therese." 

As  they  wandered  slowly  around  the  spacious 
piazza  nothing  could  exceed  the  splendid  beauty 
of  the  scene  beyond.  Like  a  triumphant  mon- 
arch surrounded  by  a  golden-bannered  host,  the 
sun  was  slowly  disappearing  behind  the  purple 
cloud-hills  of  the  west,  and  the  trees  of  the  for- 
est, gleaming  in  the  amber  light,  whispered  like 
a  grand  monochord  a  mellow  accompaniment  to 
the  song  of  the  mocking-birds  in  their  shade. 
Dreamy  looking  shadows,  tinged  with  rose  hue 
and  gold,  floated  lazily  along  the  eastern  hori- 
zon, and  diffused  their  borrowed  Hght  in  a  broad 
gleaming  shower  of  beauty  on  the  sparkling 
waves  of  the  unquiet  ocean  below.  One  large 
mass  of  clouds  lying  towards  the  southeast  be- 
tokened a  storm  in  that  quarter,  and  while  per- 
chance wind  and  wave  were  spending  their  wild 
fury  in  that  far-distant  spot,  the  splendid  glories 
of  the  closing  day  threw  a  halo  around  its  gloom. 
P'ar  along  the  horizon's  line  the  motion  of  the 
rolling  billows  could  be  distinctly  defined,  as 
with  graceful  sweep  they  rose  and  fell,  looking, 
as  the  sun-rays  gleamed  on  their  white  crests, 
like  distant  snow-capped  Alps.  Like  a  swan  on 
the  waves,  rising  and  falling  with  a  graceful  mo- 
tion, a  vessel  now  floated  beneath  the  shadow 


TEE  SISTER  OF  CEARITY. 


47 


of  the  distant  storm-cloud,  and  was  almost  hid- 
den beneath  its  mists. 

''\\liat  a  contrast/'  said  Blanche,  in  a  low 
voice;  "while  all  around  is  rejoicing  in  the  smiles 
of  yon  heaven,  that  solitary  spot  is  filled  with 
gloom!  So  in  life;  men  rejoice  as  the  golden 
hues  of  prosperity  glitter  around  them,  and  heed 
but  little  the  one  heart  that  may  be  bursting 
with  anguish  in  their  midst.'' 

''So  in  life,"  exclaimed  Sister  Therese,  lifting 
her  radiant  face  upwards;  "all  that  turns  earth- 
ward is  filled  with  shadows,  while  the  soul  within 
its  bonds  of  clay  basks  in  the  light  of  peace. 
Stars  nestle  behind  yon  storm-cloud,  dear  child, 
and  who  can  tell  the  gorgeous  visions  that  are 
reflected  from  above  on  its  inner  folds?  Oft- 
times,  when  adversity  and  bereavement  threaten 
to  engulf  us  in  darkness  and  night,  the  soul's  un- 
sleeping eye  turns  heavenward  with  faith  and 
hope  to  its  Almighty  Father,  and  beholds  the 
angel  bow  of  promise.    But  see!" 

As  she  spoke,  and  while  both  gazed  on  the  dis- 
tant storm-cloud,  it  became  slightly  agitated, 
heaved  to  and  fro  for  an  instant,  and  finally  sep- 
arating in  the  midst,  revealed  a  splendid  rain- 
bow glancing  upward,  like  a  circlet  of  gems, 
from  the  bosom  of  the  ocean,  where  it  lay,  half 
hidden,  a'  vision  of  beauty,  among  the  clouds. 
The  vessel,  emerging  from  the  shadow,  caught 
the  gleaming  light  on  her  white  sails,  and,  float- 


48 


THE  8I8TER  OF  CHARITY. 


ing  gracefully,  like  a  bright-winged  spirit,  on  the 
billow,  was  soon  hovering  on  the  horizon's  verge 
and  ere  long  lost  in  the  dim  distance. 

"So  let  me  glide  away  from  the  shadows  of 
life  to  the  spirit-land,"  exclaimed  Blanche;  "let 
them  encompass  and  hide  me  from  all  but  Thee, 
Oh,  God!  and  let  every  link  be  severed  save  those 
which  unite  my  soul  to  heaven!" 

Sister  Therese  gazed  for  a  moment  on  the  fair. 
Madonna-like  face  of  Blanche  with  undisguised 
admiration;  then,  drawing  her  gently  to  her 
bosom,  kissed  her  glowing  cheek,  and,  turning 
to  Cora's  harp,  which  stood  uncovered  near 
them,  swept  her  fmgers,  v/ith  a  master's  touch, 
over  the  golden  strings,  and  after  playing  a 
svv^eet,  tranquilizing  prelude,  sang,  with  a  voice 
of  startling  depth  and  sweetness,  the  following 
hymn : 

"Fading,  still  fading,  the  last  beam  is  shining, 
Ave  Maria,  day  is  declining; 
Safety  and  innocence  fly  with  the  light, 
Temptation  and  danger  walk  forth  with  the  night. 
Let  us  sleep  on  thy  breast  while  the  night  taper  burns, 
And  wake  in  thy  arms  when  the  morning  returns. 

Ave  Maria  audi  nos. 

"Ave  Maria!  oh,  hear  when  we  call, 
Mother  of  Him  who  is  Saviour  of  all; 
Feeble  and  fearing,  we  trust  in  thy  might. 
In  doubting  and  darkness  thy  love  be  our  light. 
From  the  fall  of  the  shade  till  the  matin  shall  chime, 
Shield  us  from  danger  and  save  us  from  crime. 

Ave  Maria  audi  nos." 


THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


49 


Corinne,  startled  by  the  solemn  and  thrilling 
melody,  ceased  playing  with  the  child,  and,  lift- 
ing her  in  her  arms,  approached  noiselessly,  and 
leaned,  half-hidden  by  the  branches  of  an  olean- 
der tree,  against  one  of  the  twisted  pillars.  An- 
other listener,  i\Ir.  LesHe,  joined  the  group,  un- 
perceived  by  the  rapt  musician.  ]\Iaking  a  sign 
of  silence  by  placing  his  finger  on  his  lip,  he  en- 
joyed, with  intense  satisfaction,  the  peculiarly 
sweet  performance,  and  seemed  to  have  forgot- 
ten an  open  and  closely-written  letter  which  he 
held  in  his  hand.  The  hymn  finished,  her  fingers 
lingered  for  a  moment  among  the  chords,  touch- 
ing at  intervals  a  few  sweet  notes;  then,  with  a 
deep  sigh,  Sister  Therese  left  the  harp  and  glided 
through  an  open  door  into  the  house,  all  uncon- 
scious of  the  pleasure  she  had  aft'orded  by  her 
melodious  and  masterly  execution. 

"Blanche,"  said  ^Ir.  Leslie. 

"Sir,"  replied  Blanche,  starting  from  the  spot 
where  she  had  remained  standing  in  deep  rev- 
ery. 

"Here  is  a  letter,  my  love,  from  Edgar  St. 
Johns,  which  informs  me  that  he  arrived  with  a 
friend  in  New  York  last  week." 

"Thank  God!"  interrupted  Blanche,  almost 
unconscious  of  what  she  said. 

"And,"  continued  ]\Ir.  Leslie,  "they  will  be 
here  to-morrow,  at  the  latest.  But  I  have  that 
to  tell  you  which  will  astonish  you  no  Httle.  In 


50 


THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


his  wanderings  through  Europe  Edgar  became 
so  fascinated  with  the  imposing  pretensions  of 
the  Catholic  religion  that  he  has  renounced 
Protestantism,  and  is  now  a  firm  and  ardent  be- 
liever in  the  faith  of  Rome." 

A  gleam  of  satisfaction  lit  up  the  beautiful  fea- 
tures of  Blanche,  but  she  remained  silent;  while 
Corinne,  indififerent,  though  somewhat  surprised 
at  his  conversion,  inquired  who  her  cousin's 
travelling  companion  might  be. 

''More  wonderful  still,"  said  Mr.  Leslie,  laugh- 
ing, "the  friend  of  whom  he  speaks  is  a  Catholic 
ecclesiastic,  who  a  few  years  ago  resigned  title, 
honors  and  wealth  for  the  tonsure  and  the  brevi- 
ary. Every  temptation  that  powerful  friends 
and  wealth  could  suggest  was  presented  to  in- 
duce him  to  forego  his  vocation,  but  he  perse- 
vered, and  if  there  was  a  regret  on  his  part  it  was 
that  the  sacrifice  was  not  greater.  Such  in- 
stances of  voluntary  poverty  for  the  love  of  God 
form  some  of  the  noblest  traits  in  the  religion  of 
Rome.  Would  to  God  she  were  as  pure  in  all 
else  as  in  her  practical  lessons  of  Christian  abne- 
gation," said  Mr.  Leslie,  musingly.  "Our  guest 
is  a  CatlioHc,  I  believe." 

*'An  angel,"  replied  Blanche,  enthusiasti- 
cally. 

"Better  still,"  said  Mr.  LesHe,  laughingly; 
"but  let  us  in,  my  dears,  for  here  are  letters  for 
both  of  you  from  Edgar,  which  will  require  a 


THE  8ISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


51 


light  to  read.  Give  me  your  drowsy-looking 
pet,  Cora." 

Blanche  received  the  letter  addressed  to  her 
with  a  blush  and  smile,  and  ran  hastily  in  to  per- 
use its  contents  in  the  quiet  sanctuary  of  her 
own  room.  Cora  quietly  seated  herself,  and, 
breaking  the  broad  seal,  proceeded  to  read  hers 
aloud  to  her  father  by  the  light  of  a  lamp  which 
a  servant  had  just  deposited  on  the  table.  The 
child  Irene  nestled  her  head  close  to  Mr.  Leslie's 
breast,  and,  throwing  her  little  white  arms  with 
a  sweet  abandon  of  childish  innocence  about  his 
neck,  closed  her  eyes,  and,  after  starting  once  or 
twice,  and  murmuring,  "My  mamma,"  fell  into 
a  deep,  quiet  slumber. 


52  TEE  8I8TER  OF  CHARITY,  ^ 

1 


CHAPTER  IV. 

"Turn  thou  away  from  life's  pageants,  turn, 
If  its  deep  story  thy  heart  would  learn. 
Ever  too  bright  is  that  outward  show, 
Dazzling  the  eyes  till  they  see  not  woe; 
But  lift  the  proud  mantle  that  hides  from  thy  view 
The  things  thou  shouldst  gaze  on,  the  sad,  the  true; 
Nor  fear  to  survey  what  its  folds  conceal — 
So  must  thy  spirit  be  taught  to  feel." 

READER,  wrap  the  seer  mantle  of  fancy 
about  thee  and  look  back  with  us  some 
thirty  years  into  the  shadowy  depths  of 
the  past.  It  is  from  the  past  that  we  learn  some 
of  our  best  lessons;  therefore  fear  not,  thou  wilt 
see  nothing  that  can  harm  thee,  but  much  which 
will  in  the  sequel  teach  thee  to  say  from  the  in- 
nermost depths  of  thy  heart,  'Thy  will,  oh,  God, 
be  done!" 

In  a  luxuriously  furnished  chamber,  belong- 
ing to  a  princely  mansion  in  the  metropolis  of 
the  United  States,  lay  a  child  on  a  low  couch, 
surrounded  by  all  the  appliances  which  wealth 
can  command  for  the  comfort  of  the  rich.  His 
round,  symmetrical  limbs  were  embedded  in  the 
finest  linen,  while  pillows  of  down  encased  in 


THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY, 


53 


rose-colored  satin,  over  which  were  drawn  cov- 
ers of  the  most  exquisitely  wrought  India  mus- 
lin, supported  his  head.  The  short,'  brown, 
silken  curls  were  thrown  back  from  his  broad, 
white  forehead,  and  lay  in  glossy  disorder  on  the 
pillow.  His  eyes  were  closed,  and  the  evenly 
arched  brows  above  the  blue-veined  lids,  with 
their  long,  sweeping  lashes  below,  revealed  an 
excellence  of  rare  beauty  in  one  so  young.  A 
fever  spot,  as  bright  as  the  inner  heart  of  a  fresh 
rose,  burned  on  each  cheek,  while  ever  and  anon 
the  rich  red  lips,  flushed  and  inflamed  by  disease, 
were  drawn  back  with  an  expression  of  mute 
agony  from  his  clenched  teeth,  which  looked  like 
two  rows  of  glistening  pearls.  The  boy's  hands, 
round  and  dimpled,  wandered  mechanically  over 
the  heavy  satin  quilt,  which  he  had  uncon- 
sciously thrown  aside,  as  if  in  search  of  som.e 
missing  plaything.  The  draperies,  which  hung 
in  tent-like  form  from  a  massive  ring  in  the  ceil- 
ing, were  drawn  back  with  a  heavy  cord  of  crim- 
son and  gold,  for  the  purpose  of  admitting  air 
from  a  window  beyond  to  the  suffering  child. 
Through  this  a  broad,  mellow  ray  of  light 
streamed  in  and  lingered  about  his  unconscious 
form,  and  imparted  to  it  such  an  ethereal  grace 
that  one  might  have  been  pardoned  for  mistak- 
ing him  for  an  angel  who  had  wandered  away 
from  the  spirit-land  to  slumber  a  while  on  earth. 
A  grave-looking  gentleman  in  black  sat  by  the 


54  THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY, 


bedside,  noting  by  a  large  gold  repeater  the  vari- 
ous changes  in  his  pulse.  On  the  other  side 
knelt  the  mother,  wrapped  in  a  long,  loose 
robe  of  white,  with  her  hair  half  braided  and  half 
floating  in  careless  waves  about  her  shoulders, 
watching  every  breath  and  every  shade  of  ex- 
pression which  denoted  the  slightest  change  in 
her  child.  At  times,  dipping  her  hand  into  a 
small  silver  vessel  containing  some  iced  aromatic 
liquid,  she  wildly  yet  tenderly  bathed  the  fore- 
head, hands  and  feet  of  the  boy;  then,  when 
naught  else  could  suggest  itself  to  her  bleeding 
heart,  she  would  Hft  her  streaming  eyes  and 
clasped  hands  to  heaven,  and  pray  with  an  un- 
chastened  spirit  that  he  might  be  spared.  In  a 
more  distant  part  of  the  room,  and  almost  con- 
cealed by  the  shadow,  a  stern  looking  man,  hand- 
some and  somewhat  past  the  prime  of  life,  softly 
walked  to  and  fro.  No  tears  dimmed  his  eyes, 
but  the  veins  in  his  forehead  were  swollen  like 
cords,  and  the  pressure  of  his  teeth  on  his  white 
lips  caused  the  blood  to  start  more  than  once. 
Occasionally  he  glanced  towards  the  bed,  but, 
quickly  withdrawing  his  eyes  again,  bowed  his 
head  on  his  breast  and  commenced  his  slow,  gen- 
tle walk.  There  was  silence  and  calm  within 
that  room,  but  it  was  not  the  silence  of  souls 
reverently  waiting  with  sad  resignation  for  the 
mandate  of  God,  or  the  calm  of  that  trusting  faith 
which  teaches,  in  memory  of  Gethsemane,  "Not 


THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


55 


my  will,  but  thine,  be  done."  Xo;  the  pent-up 
feelings,  controlled  through  regard  to  the  Uttle 
sufferer,  the  stern  endurance,  which  betokened 
a  proud  spirit  rather  than  a  meek  one,  gave  un- 
mistakable evidence  that  grace  armed  not  for 
the  conflict,  and  if  the  hopes  which,  despite  all, 
still  buoyed  up  each  heart  should  fail,  there  were 
no  sweet  consolations  for  them  on  which  to  lean 
while  the  storm  passed  by.  This  gentleman  was 
Judge  Herbert,  of  Xorth  Carolina,  then  Speaker 
of  the  House  of  Representatives,  the  husband 
of  the  lady  who  knelt  in  such  feverish  agony  by 
the  side  of  their  only  child. 

•''How  is  it  with  him  now.  Doctor?"  whispered 
]\Irs.  Herbert. 

"]\Iadam_,''  he  replied,  in  a  quick,  shrill  voice, 
''"it  is — ah — the  case  is  just  now  on  a  turn — a 
crisis,  and  a  few  moments  may  

"\\'hat.  Doctor?"'  asked  'Mrs.  Herbert,  in  a 
low  whisper. 

"In  a  few  moments  either  life  or  death  may 
ensue,"  he  answered  quietly. 

"Oh,  God!  ]\Iy  child,  my  darling — it  cannot, 
it  must  not  be!  I  cannot,  will  not  part  with 
thee,  my  beautiful!"  she  exclaimed,  pressing  her 
forehead  on  the  little  palm  she  held. 

"Quiet,  madam,  quiet  is  absolutely  neces- 
sary," said  the  doctor,  still  regarding  with  steady 
eyes  the  countenance  of  the  child,  whose  face 
gradually  became  more  wan  and  his  features 


56 


TEE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


more  sharp  and  pinched,  while  a  purple  tinge, 
like  the  shadow  of  death,  gathered  around  his 
eyes  and  lips,  which  had  yielded  up  their  bright, 
glowing  hue  to  one  mortally  white.  A  short, 
quick  struggle  convulsed  his  body,  and  scarcely 
had  the  doctor  muttered,  almost  inaudibly, 
''Gone,  by  Jove!"  when  all  was  still. 

The  door  opened,  and  the  clergyman  of  the 
most  fashionable  church  in  the  metropolis  en- 
tered, when,  seeing  the  state  of  things,  he  beck- 
oned to  the  physician,  and,  after  ascertaining — • 
very  prudently,  for  he  had  a  large  family  of  his 
own — that  the  disease  which  had  prostrated  the 
child  was  not  contagious,  hastened  towards  Mrs. 
Herbert,  who  wildly  and  frantically  upbraided 
heaven,  and  in  passionate  language  called  on  her 
darling  to  awake  from  the  slumber  of  death. 
Judge  Herbert  held  her  in  his  arms,  and  she  lay 
panting  on  his  breast,  Hke  a  wounded  bird,  gasp- 
ing out  words  which  her  anguish  made  madness. 
He  shed  no  tear,  but  the  wound,  though  hidden, 
pierced  not  less  deeply. 

''My  dearest  madam,"  said  the  clergyman,  af- 
ter a  long  pause,  "we  should  in  all  cases  of  this 
kind  bow  submissive  to  the  will  of  God." 

"Oh,  talk  not  thus  to  me!"  she  cried;  "I  ask 
but  for  his  life — his  dear  life — and  God,  whom 
I  have  been  always  taught  to  love  because  he  is 
merciful,  refused  my  prayer;  in  whom,  then,  shall 
I  trust?    Oh,  my  child!  my  child!" 


THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY, 


57. 


"In  Him  who  once  raised  the  dead/'  said  the 
clergyman,  impressively. 

She  looked  at  him  a  moment  in  silence;  then, 
as  if  inspired  by  a  sudden  thought,  flung  herself 
on  her  knees,  and,  while  her  eyes  glowed  with 
strange  fire,  stretched  forth  her  arms  and  ex- 
claimed: 'Thou,  oh,  thou  Jesus  of  Nazareth!  who 
didst  raise  the  dead,  restore  unto  m.e  my  child! 
Thou  didst  recall  Lazarus  to  life  after  he  had 
been  four  days  dead;  Thou  didst  from  afar  heal 
the  ruler's  daughter;  Thou  didst  raise  the  son  of 
the  widow  of  Xain;  Thou  hast  spoken  and  the 
eyes  of  the  blind  were  opened;  Thou  didst  com- 
mand and  the  lame  were  healed,  and  Thou, 
Thou  thyself  didst  die  and  by  thy  own  power 
rise  again  from  the  dead — by  these,  oh!  by  these, 
Thou  merciful  one!  raise  my  firstborn,  my  only 
child,  from  the  sleep  of  death!  Thou  dost  not 
need  him  among  the  tens  of  thousands  who  live 
in  thy  presence;  but  I — I — oh!  had  I  only  him 
again,  no  grief,  no  sorrow  would  be  too  bitter  to 
bear!" 

^'My  dear  madam,  allow  me  to  beseech  you  to 
be  calm." 

"Your  grief  has  made  you  mad,"  I  suppose  you 
would  say,"  she  exclaimed;  'Svell,  so  let  it  be — 
anything,  so  my  child  had  but  lived.  Oh,  my 
darling!  my  beautiful!"  she  cried,  leaning  over 
the  pale  form  of  the  boy  and  kissing  every  lovely 
feature  of  his  face. 


58 


THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


The  physician,  who  had  continued  to  hold, 
from  some  mechanical  impulse,  the  child's  wrist 
beneath  the  pressure  of  his  fingers,  suddenly 
started  up,  and,  tearing  open  the  fine  cambric 
slip  that  covered  his  chest,  pressed  his  hand 
about  the  region  of  the  heart,  while  with  the 
lother  he  made  a  mute  though  eloquent  gesture 
of  silence.  "One — two — three — the  child  is  not 
dead!"  he  said. 

''But  sleepeth,"  interrupted  the  clergyman. 

"Pshaw!"  muttered  the  physician.  "Four — . 
five — six — seven — huzza!  Nature's  at  work, 
and  she  will  assert  her  own  now!"  he  exclaimed, 
triumphantly,  as,  drawing  a  lancet  from  his  vest 
pocket,  he  with  the  quickness  of  thought  opened 
a  vein  in  the  fair,  rounded  arm,  from  which  the 
blood  at  first  oozed  slowly  and  darkly,  then, 
flowing  more  freely,  ran  in  a  bright  red  stream 
over  the  costly  coverings  of  the  bed.  The  palHd 
cheeks  were  again  tinged  with  life,  and,  as  he 
heavily  raised  the  lids  of  his  large,  sleepy-looking 
eyes,  he  stretched  forth  the  arm  that  was  free 
and  lisped,  "Mother!" 

"Silence  all!"  exclaimed  the  physician  in  a  pos- 
itive tone,  while  he  turned  his  head  to  hide  the 
tear  that  twinkled  in  his  own  deep-set  eyes;  "the 
child  will  live." 

The  child  indeed  lived.  This  was  all  for  which 
Mrs.  Herbert  had  prayed;  the  desire  of  her  soul 
was  accomplished,  and  she  was  at  once  bravely 


THE  SISTER   OF  CHARITY. 


59 


nerved  for  all  the  patient  v.-atchings,  the  fatigue 
and  sleepless  nights,  which  would  be  attendant 
on  his  convalescence.  Her  heart  comprehended 
at  once  her  duties,  and.  watching  the  physician's 
eye  and  the  movements  of  the  boy.  she  was  in  an 
instant  ready  to  go  or  do  at  the  bidding  of  either. 
But  while  she.  buoyed  up  by  hope,  seemed  in- 
spired with  new  life  and  was  again  calm  and  al- 
most happy,  her  husband  yielded  to  an  excess  of 
joy  that  which  he  sternly  refused  to  grief — tears, 
its  legitimate  tribute — and  was  quite  unmanned. 
His  frame  trembled  like  a  reed  in  the  blast  and 
his  chest  heaved  like  a  troubled  wave,  until 
finally,  leaning  on  the  clergyman's  shoulder,  he 
left  the  room  in  a  state  of  uncontrolled  emotion. 
That  mother's  wild,  unholy  prayer  was  an- 
swered.   Evelyn  Herbert  lived. 

Teach  us.  oh.  Lord  of  love,  to  say.  "Thy  will 
be  done."  when  our  best-beloved  and  brightest 
are  gathered  home  to  Thee,  and  our  hearths  are 
made  desolate:  when  health  and  gladness  flee 
forever:  when  honors  fade  and  reproach  withers 
the  heart:  when  ^Mammon  withdraws  his  horn 
of  plenty,  and  want,  with  all  its  train  of  sad  per- 
plexities, wearies  the  body  and  mind:  when 
friends  fail,  and  sorrow  seems  ever  gathering  on 
the  blast — strengthen  us,  oh.  Spirit  of  love 
and  fortitude!  by  the  holy  consolations  of  that 
faith  with  which  Thou  dost  abide  forever;  brood 
in  the  likeness  of  a  dove  over  our  troubled  souls, 


60 


THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY^ 


and  sweetly  teach  us,  with  Thy  still,  small  voice, 
to  say,  ''Thy  will  be  done,  Thy  will  be  done." 

^  ^  2^  ^  ^ 

At  the  time  our  narrative  opens  some  twelve 
or  fourteen  years  had  elapsed  since  Judge  Her- 
bert had  retired  from  public  Ufe  to  settle  with  his 
family  quietly  down  on  his  splendid  plantation 
at  the  Oaklands,  in  North  Carolina.  He  left  the 
poHtical  arena  open  to  his  son,  then  a  fine  young 
man  of  twenty-one  or  twenty-two  years  of  age, 
who  was  not  slow  in  improving  all  the  advan- 
tages by  which  he  was  surrounded.  Basking  in 
the  fame  of  his  father's  political  integrity,  mak- 
ing use  of  his  long  and  matured  experience,  his 
clear  and  unembarrassed  judgment,  and  having 
advantage  of  his  brilUant  reputation  as  a  lawyer, 
making  him  his  example  in  public  and  oracle  in 
private,  it  is  not  strange  that,  with  transcendent 
talents  of  his  own,  and  a  proud,  equable,  well- 
poised  intellect,  he  should  rank  first  among  the 
noble-hearted  sons  of  Carolina.  His  eloquence 
possessed  a  magic  power;  it  thrilled  the  hearts 
of  the  young  with  an  electrical  sympathy,  while 
men,  his  seniors,  who  had  distinguished  them- 
selves by  a  long  career  of  usefulness  and  by  the 
most  ennobling  traits  of  mind  and  heart  which 
do  honor  to  human  nature,  pronounced  him  un- 
equalled in  all  the  sinuosities  of  law,  the  rules  of 
logic  and  rhetoric.    His  manners  were  bland  and 


THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


61 


gentlemanly,  and  his  prevailing  characteristics 
benevolence  and  generosity,  which  lent  a  gentle- 
ness of  expression  to  the  manly  beauty  of  his 
face,  and  which,  joined  to  a  frank  demeanor  and 
graceful  carriage,  made  friends  for  him  daily. 
Like  that  hidden  power  which,  it  is  said,  trans- 
mutes all  metals  into  gold,  so  did  he,  in  his  way 
through  life,  transmute  the  crude  masses  and 
dross  of  mankind  by  his  kind,  considerate  dispo- 
sition and  impulsive  generosity,  into  firm  allies 
and  faithful  friends;  in  fact,  such  was  his  im- 
mense popularity  that  at  the  age  of  twenty-five 
he  was  elected,  with  scarce  a  dissenting  vote,  a 
member  of  Congress  by  his  district  in  Xorth 
Carolina.  ]\Irs.  Herbert  still  lived,  and  her 
lieart  had  not  learned  to  idolize  less  the  child 
for  whose  life  she  had  once  so  wildly  prayed,  and 
when  she  saw  how  others  prized  that  which  she 
so  entirely  loved,  and  appreciated  properly  the 
being  who  was  in  her  eyes  faultless,  she  would 
say.  proudly.  ''He  deserves  it  all,  and  more;"  but, 
even  while  quaffing  deep  from  the  golden  chahce 
of  her  heart's  pride,  she  was  more  than  once 
startled  by  seeing  a  serpent  coiled  beneath  the 
sparkling  foam,  which  she  feared  might  one  day 
or  other  "sting  her  unto  death,"  and  yet  she  wor- 
shipped on,  nor  ever  dreamed  of  the  claims  of 
high  heaven  on  her  self-neglected  soul. 

The  Oaklands  was  situated  about  two  miles 
from  Elverton  Hall,  and  a  broad,  well-beaten 


62 


TEE  SISTER  OE  CBARITT, 


road,  shaded  by  ancient  oak  trees,  whose  stal- 
wart arms,  interlaced  overhead,  gave  evidence 
that  the  intercourse  between  the  two  families 
was  both  friendly  and  frequent;  indeed,  it  was 
whispered  among  the  gossips  of  the  neighbor- 
hood that  at  some  future  day  a  bride  would  be 
brought  from  Elverton  Hall  by  the  heir  of  Oak- 
lands. 


THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


63 


CHAPTER  V. 

A    THRILLING    INCIDENT—CONFIDENCE  IN 
GOD  REWARDED. 

IT  had  been  a  proud  day  at  the  Oaklands — but, 
before  we  proceed  farther,  we  wiH  teh  the 
cause,  hoping  that  our  readers  wiU  pardon 
the  long  digression.  A  tedious  and  difficult 
case  had  been  pending  in  the  criminal  court  of 
E  ,  which,  being  based  altogether  on  cir- 
cumstantial evidence,  could  not  easily  be  de- 
cided. Lawyers  grew  faint  in  their  efforts  to 
serve  the  unhappy  being,  who,  although  accused 
on  strong  evidence  of  being  a  parricide,  asserted 
throughout,  in  the  most  positive  terms,  his  in- 
nocence. The  judges  became  enigmatical  in 
their  charges  to  the  jury,  while  the  twelve,  on 
whose  decision  hung  the  prisoner's  fate,  never 
agreed,  because  some  seven  or  eight  among 
their  number,  weary  of  restraint  and  fasting, 
were  anxious  "fah'e  ime  pierre  deux  coupe" — 
that  is,  get  out  of  the  predicament,  by  disposing 
of  their  turtle  soup  and  the  prisoner  at  the  same 


64  THE  SISTER  OF  CBARIT7. 


time,  while  the  remaining  four,  generally  fresh 
to  the  business  and  therefore  very  unsophisti- 
cated in  the  manner  of  agreeing  on  a  verdict  in 
criminal  cases,  chose  rather  to  starve  than  hang 
a  man  contrary  to  their  candid  impressions  of  his 
innocence. 

Things  had  progressed  in  this  way  through 
four  long,  tedious  terms  of  the  court,  and  at 
every  trial  the  same  result — the  jury  could  not 
agree — until  at  last  the  duty  of  empanelling  a 
jury  to  sit  on  the  case  became  a  difficult  task. 
About  this  time  the  fame  of  Evelyn  Herbert  was 
approaching  its  zenith,  and  the  poor  prisoner,  in 
his  solitary  cell,  hearing  accidentally  of  this  new 
light,  which  was  shedding  such  wonderful  lustre 
over  the  dull  schools  of  jurisprudence,  was  ad- 
vised by  his  spiritual  director,  who  visited  him 
daily,  to  employ  him  as  counsel  at  the  approach- 
ing trial.  The  man  was  a  Catholic,  and  if  this 
did  not  tend  to  make  his  cause  more  popular,  and 
if  it  identified,  with  all  the  narrow  spirit  of 
Protestantism,  the  crime  of  which  he  was  ac- 
cused with  his  religion,  it  imparted  patience  to 
his  wounded  mind  and  afforded,  through  the 
holy  sacraments,  consolation  and  tranquillity  to 
his  inmost  soul,  and  taught  him  to  look  on  the 
narrow  cell  in  which  he  had  been  imprisoned  for 
weary  years  as  a  place  of  penance,  where,  in 
hourly  acts  of  contrition  and  resignation,  his 
soul  might  become,  through  the  merits  of  Christ, 


THE  SI8TER  OF  CHARITY. 


65 


purified  from  the  dross  of  its  earthly  existence. 
Except  for  the  reproach  which  a  felon's  doom 
would  bring  on  the  faith  he  professed,  he  shrunk 
not,  so  well  had  his  mind  been  chastened  by 
affliction,  from  an  ignominious  death;  for  the 
hope  of  being  thereby  raised  from  dishonor  to 
honor,  from  dust  to  immortality  and  rest, 
plucked  the  sting  from  the  shaft  of  death  and 
imparted  a  sublime  sentiment  of  calm  and  re- 
signed patience  to  his  whole  interior  being.  Al- 
though disposing  himself,  with  childlike  simplic- 
ity and  strong  faith,  to  the  mercy  and  protection 
of  a  just  God,  he  disdained  not  those  means  of 
human  relief  which  lay  in  his  power,  but  wished 
to  use  them  only  so  far  as  consistent  with  his 
holy  will;  beyond  this  he  feared  or  cared  naught, 
for,  if  released,  he  was  assured  it  would  be  alone 
through  the  Almighty  Providence,  in  which  he 
trusted;  if  condemned,  he  would  receive  it  as  a 
temporal  punishment  due  to  the  forgotten  and 
unconfessed  sins  of  his  life,  and  offer  his  last 
pangs  up,  in  conjunction  with  the  sufferings  of 
Christ,  as  satisfaction  for  the  same.  Many,  not 
discerning  the  spirit  which  consoled  him,  won- 
dered at  his  calm  demeanor,  and,  as  in  ancient 
days,  the  sinless  Lamb  of  God  was  persecuted 
even  unto  death  by  his  enemies,  they  did  not 
now  spare  his  humble  follower,  but  derided  him 
as  a  hypocrite  and  a  hardened  sinner.  But  he 
knew  in  whose  footsteps  he  walked  as  he  passed 


66 


TEE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


along  the  steep  and  narrow  way,  and  although 
burning  tears  fell  into  the  bitter  chalice  which 
was  offered  him,  he  refused  it  not,  but,  drinking 
'it  to  the  dregs,  angels  of  peace  ministered  to 
him.    >H  =i« 

With  difficulty,  procuring  leave,  he  wrote  a 
few  lines  to  Herbert,  stating  his  case  in  simple 
and  touching  language,  and  requesting  as  early 
an  interview  as  possible.  It  was  granted  as  soon 
as  asked,  and  as  Herbert  listened  to  the  history 
of  his  griefs  all  the  nobler  chords  of  his  generous 
heart  were  touched.  It  was  his  prerogative  to 
defend  a  fellow-being  when  accused  of  crime,  and 
by  the  transcendent  powers  of  his  eloquence, 
aided  by  right  and  justice,  rescue  them  from  the 
hard  and  merciless  fangs  of  the  law  when  op- 
pressed; and,  acting  on  a  magnanimous  impulse, 
he  entered  without  hesitation  on  the  difficulties 
of  the  case.  As  yet  the  unfortunate  man  had 
met  with  no  generosity,  and  less  justice;  he  and 
his  painfully  difficult  case  had  been  made  a  public 
annual  show  of  for  months  together,  and  af- 
forded delightful  morceati  for  the  newspapers 
throughout  the  country,  then — he  was  forgot- 
ten. But  now  the  Almighty  hand,  which  had 
chastised,  because  it  loved  him,  sent  him  a  friend 
when  least  expected — a  powerful  friend,  in  his 
sore  need.  Herbert  allowed  no  time  to  inter- 
vene between  this  interview  and  his  duty.  Be- 
fore the  midnight  hour  had  chimed  he  made  him- 


TEE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


67 


self  thoroughly  acquainted  with  the  case,  ex- 
amined every  record  which  had  any  bearing  on  it, 
and  at  an  early  hour  the  next  day  had  consulted 
with  those  lawyers  who  had  at  different  times 
been  the  prisoner's  counsel,  and  ere  night  had, 
with  unwearied  diligence,  sought  out  and  con- 
versed with  every  individual  who  had  witnessed 
the  suspicious  conduct  of  the  man,  and  gathered 
from  them  on  their  oath  all  they  knew.  When 
he  summed  up  all,  he  found  to  his  great  grief 
that  it  amounted  to  but  little  in  favor  of  his 
client.  Every  circumstance  tended  to  condemn, 
and  yet,  withal,  notJiing  could  be  proved,  except 
that  the  father  of  Stevens  had  been  found  mur- 
dered; that  he  was  the  last  person  seen  with  him, 
as  they  walked  at  sunset  towards  a  lonely  part 
of  the  outskirts  of  the  town;  that  the  son's  knife 
had  been  found  buried  to  the  hilt  in  the  old  man's 
heart ;  that  his  watch  was  found  on  his  son's  per- 
son, and  the  son's  handkerchief  wTapped  over  a 
gash  in  the  father's  hand.  Many  of  his  distin- 
guished friends  advised  him  to  withdraw  at  once 
from  the  case,  but  there  w^as  an  impetuous  cur- 
rent in  his  temperament,  which  gained  new  force 
from  opposition,  particularly  when  principles  of 
justice,  humanity,  or  chivalry,  animated  the  well- 
springs  of  his  manly  heart,  and  he  determined  to 
brave  defeat  rather  than  give  up  the  interests  of 
his  unfortunate  cHent,  who  he  conscientiously 
believed  to  be  innocent.  The  day  before  the  trial 


68 


TEE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


vehicles  of  every  description  might  be  seen  wend- 
ing their  way  into  the  city  of  E  .  The  bril- 
liant reputation  of  Herbert,  the  generosity  of  his 
present  act,  and  the  singularity  of  the  case,  had 
been  much  and  widely  talked  of,  and  drew  to- 
gether a  crowd  to  witness  the  trial  the  Hke  of 
which  had  never  before  been  seen  in  the  quiet 
city.  That  night  Herbert  had  retired  to  his 
room,  almost  hopeless  of  gaining  more  positive 
evidence,  and,  wrapping  his  dressing  gown 
around  him,  threw  himself  listlessly  into  his 
study-chair,  when  his  servant  entered  and 
handed  him  a  coarse,  soiled-loking  note.  He 
took  it,  almost  mechanically,  from  the  man,  and 
inquired  if  the  person  who  brought  it  waited,  and 
on  being  answered  in  the  negative  laid  it  care- 
lessly on  the  table,  muttering,  "To-morrow 
morning  will  do  for  such  a  stupid-looking  affair," 
and  was  ere  many  minutes  elapsed  completely 
immersed  in  his  studies.  The  clock  from  an  ad- 
joining church  tolled  the  hour  of  two  ere  he 
seemed  to  remember  that  a  few  hours'  sleep 
would  be  necessary  to  prepare  him  for  the  fa- 
tigues and  excitement  of  the  coming  day.  He 
started  up,  and,  closing  hastily  the  heavy  book 
which  lay  before  him,  proceeded  to  look  for  a 
piece  of  paper  to  Hght  the  night-taper,  which  al- 
ways burned  in  his  room  at  night  while  he  slept. 
But,  strange  to  tell,  not  a  scrap  of  waste  paper 
presented  itself  to  view;  not  even  a  piece  of  an  old 


THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


69 


letter  or  newspaper.  ]\Iaking  some  impatient 
ejaculation,  he  was  in  the  act  of  tearing  a  blank 
leaf  from  one  of  his  books,  when  his  eye  fell  acci- 
dentally on  the  coarse-looking  note  which  he 
had  received  a  few  hours  ago.  *''It  cannot  be  of 
much  importance,"  he  said;  and,  breaking  the 
seal  under  the  momentary  impulse,  he  read,  with 
dilated  eyes  and  glowing  cheeks,  the  following 
strange  words : 

"Fear  -not.  Success  will  attend  your  efforts 
to-viorroiu.  Justice  no  loiiger  sleeps.  A  witness 
zuill  be  fortJiconiiiig  zvlio  will  reveal  all.  The 
writer  of  tJiis  trusts  to  your  hoior  to  say  notJiing 
of  this  ;  it  would  do  no  good,  and  might  do  much 
Jiarjn.  Expect  me  to-morrow  until  the  last  mo- 
vient.  If  I  come  not,  you  may  know  that  I  am 
dead.  One  WJio  Knows.'" 

Herbert  at  first  experienced  a  dizzy  sensation 
of  joy,  but  on  more  sober  reflection  the  whole 
affair  wore  too  much  the  appearance  of  romance 
to  be  real.  He  felt  sure  that  some  wag  had  been 
exercising  his  practical  wit  at  his  expense;  so, 
twisting  the  note  into  a  lamp-lighter,  he  delib- 
erately lit  his  taper  with  it  and  threw  the  blazing 
fragments  on  the  hearth,  where  they  were  soon 
consumed;  and.  humming  a  light  air.  he  opened  a 
closet,  and — shall  we  proceed? — poured  out  a 
strong  potation,  into  which  he  dropped  a  small 
quantity  of  black-looking  liquid  and  drained  the 


10 


THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


goblet  to  the  dregs.  He  then  threw  himself  on 
his  couch,  and  in  a  few  moments  was  lost  in  pro- 
found slumber.  Could  it  be  that  this  favored 
child  of  Fame  and  Fortune  offered  this  libation 
nightly  on  the  shrine  of  his  gifted  mind,  drown- 
ing all  its  splendid  visions  and  beautiful  percep- 
tions of  the  ideal — its  high,  stirring  hopes  of  fu- 
ture glory  and  renown — its  ambitious  projects — 
in  a  long,  dark,  dreamless  lethargy?  Alas,  yes! 
he  struggled  not  against  it;  he  yielded  not  to  the 
silent  promptings  of  the  ''still,  small  voice;"  he 
wrestled  not  with  the  demon,  but  drew  him 
nearer,  like  a  dear  companion,  to  his  bosom;  and 
in  the  delirious  moments  which  followed  his  se- 
cret potations  he  blasphemed  against  high  hea- 
ven and  defied  its  God.  Oh!  could  it  be  that 
this  being,  so  perfectly  formed  in  the  image  and 
likeness  of  his  Maker;  so  richly  endowed  with  all 
the  most  costly  intellectual  gifts;  so  talented  and 
so  idolized  by  all  who  knew  him,  for  "to  know 
him  was  to  love" — should  thus  yield  the  advan- 
tage to  that  subtle  foe,  which,  if  not  resisted, 
would  finally  ruin  him,  body  and  soul?  It  was 
too  true,  and  what  was  still  more  deplorable  those 
imprecations  against  the  Deity  were  but  the 
momentary  flashes  from  calmer  and  more  unim- 
passioned  hours,  when,  drinking  deep  from  the 
vile  philosophy  of  Voltaire  and  his  contemporar- 
ies, his  mind  became  gradually  impressed  by  their 
monstrous  and  fallacious  subtleties,  and  settled 


TEE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY, 


71 


down  from  the  dignity  of  its  high  estate  to  a 
level  with  the  "brutes  that  perish."  We  would 
have  withheld  the  sad  relation  of  such  startling 
truths — truths  more  sad  when  placed  in  dark 
contrast  to  his  proudly-gifted  mind — only  it  is 
well  in  our  view  of  life  to  learn  the  stern  lessons 
taught  by  examples  such  as  this.  Reared  with 
the  highest-toned  views  of  honor,  justice  and  in- 
tegrity, and  taught  to  regard  all  those  principles 
which  bound  him  in  his  social  relations  to  the 
world  as  sacred,  Herbert  began  gradually  to 
fancy  that  religion,  which  was  generally  spoken 
of  to  him  in  a  secondary  degree,  was  in  the  ab- 
stract but  a  plausible  system  founded  on  legends, 
whose  influence  was  well  enough  calculated  to 
keep  the  crude  and  ignorant  masses  of  society  in 
a  state  of  social  order.  This  was  but  the  begin- 
ning of  those  atheistical  notions  which  sprang 
up  in  the  fair  garden  of  his  neglected  soul,  and 
which  in  secret  were  brooded  over  by  his  vision- 
ary mind  until  they  ripened,  and  were,  like  the 
poison-tree  of  the  desert,  withering  unto  death, 
one  by  one,  the  incomparable  virtues  of  his  na- 
ture. We  weep  oft  times  without  ceasing  for 
our  loved  and  lost,  "who  have  passed  on  before 
us,  from  life's  gloomy  passion  and  pain;"  we  have 
burning  tears  for  the  dead,  even  when  we  hope 
their  souls  rest  in  peace;  but  do  we  not  too  often 
forget  those  among  us  who,  though  Hving,  are 
spiritually  dead?  and  often,  with  dazzled  eyes. 


72  TEE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 

gaze  heedlessly  on  them  as,  like  brilliant  meteors, 
they  glance  athwart  our  sight  and  rush, 

''Hurl'd  headlong,  flaming,  from  th'  ethereal  sky 
With  hideous  ruin," 

to  the  deep  shades  of  eternal  and  unutterable 
woe.  For  these  should  we  lament  and  pray  un- 
ceasingly, while  life  lends  hope,  that  they  may  at 
last,  Hke  one  of  old,  see  the  angel  of  God  stand- 
ing in  their  way,  and  acknowledge  Him  whom 
they  defied. 

Among  the  crowd  that  thronged  the  court- 
house on  the  day  of  the  trial  were  the  two  fam- 
ilies from  Elverton  Hall  and  the  Oaklands,  who, 
through  the  influence  of  Judge  Herbert,  had  se- 
cured seats  in  a  comfortable  and  sheltered  part 
of  the  gallery,  from  whence  they  could  see  every- 
thing that  was  passing  below  without  being 
themselves  exposed  to  the  rude  gaze  of  stran- 
gers' eyes.  Herbert  himself  knew  nothing  of 
this  arrangement.  As  nothing  would  be  elicited 
throughout  the  trial  which  could  possibly  offend 
a  modest  ear,  permission  had  been  granted  by  the 
presiding  judges  for  the  admission  of  ladies  into 
the  court-room,  where,  as  in  all  other  public 
places  in  our  country,  they  were  readily  accom- 
modated with  the  most  agreeable  seats. 

Many  persons,  jealous  of  the  rising  fame  of 
Herbert,  and  with  hearts  full  of  envy,  went  with 
a  smile  of  anticipated  triumph  at  his  defeat;  some 


I 

THE  SISTER  OF  CHA.RITY.  73 

with  a  vacant  kind  of  curiosity,  others  for  the 
pleasure  of  hearing  eloquent  speeches,  while  a 
few,  who  had  heavy  wagers  on  the  event,  were 
probably  the  most  anxious  among  the  crowd. 
Finally  everything  was  arranged  with  the  usual 
formula  in  such  cases.  The  judges  had  taken 
their  seats,  the  gentlemen  of  the  bar,  the  prose- 
cuting attorney,  the  prisoner's  counsel,  the  jur- 
ors, the  witnesses,  and,  last  of  all,  the  prisoner 
himself,  looking  extremely  pale  but  resigned, 
were  duly  possessed  of  their  respective  places. 
The  prosecuting  attorney  for  the  state  was  a 
man  of  extraordinary  intellect.  The  chief  char- 
acteristics of  his  mind  were  of  a  keen  and  analyz- 
ing nature,  which  lent  to  all  of  his  arguments  a 
force  and  power  which  it  was  scarcely  possible  to 
resist.  The  examination  of  witnesses  concluded, 
he  rose  to  speak.  His  eagle  eyes  rolled  and 
flashed  from  one  countenance  to  another,  and 
as  his  deep-toned  voice  delivered  word  after 
word  of  calm,  deliberate  opinion,  and  summed  up 
fact  after  fact,  circumstance  after  circumstance, 
in  crimination  of  the  prisoner,  linking  the  whole 
together  in  one  grand  chain  of  argumentative 
eloquence  of  the  highest  order,  it  seemed  impos- 
sible for  the  most  sanguine  to  entertain  a  hope 
that  the  poor  wretch  at  the  bar  could  meet  with 
any  other  than  the  extremest  sentence  of  the 
law.  The  supposed  murder  was  depicted  in 
graphic  language,  and  when  he  wound  up  by  de- 


74  TEE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY, 


scribing  the  horror  of  that  feeble,  white-haired 
old  man  when  he  found  that  the  hand  of  his  only 
child  was  giving  him  his  death-blow,  the  deep 
abhorrence  of  the  people  could  no  longer  be  con- 
trolled, and  the  excitement  became  so  intense 
that  one  loud,  indignant  groan  attested  their 
feelings,  while  not  a  few  whispers  of  the  diabol- 
ical lynch-law  were  circulated.  The  prisoner  at 
the  bar  grew  very  white  and  faint,  and,  raising  his 
hands  high  over  his  head,  exclaimed,  in  a  loud 
voice,  'Thou,  oh,  God!  who  seest  all  things,  and 
knowest  the  secrets  of  all  hearts,  knowest  that  I 
did  not  this  awful  deed.  In  thy  justice  and 
mercy  do  I  trust!"  then  fell  fainting  back  on 
some  kind  breast,  which  sprang  forward  under 
a  momentary  impulse  to  save  him  from  falling. 

When  order  was  restored  Herbert  arose  with 
a  calm  and  unruffled  demeanor,  Hke  one  conscious 
of  possessing  power  at  will.  The  burning  spirit 
within  kindled  new  light  in  his  large,  dark  eyes, 
and  added  a  deeper  tinge  to  the  healthful  glow  of 
his  cheeks.  But  this  was  all;  there  was  no  trem- 
ulousness  of  voice  or  manner.  But  why  attempt 
to  describe  it?  We  might  as  well  try  to  chain 
the  lightning  fires  of  heaven  in  spellbound  char- 
acters as  to  make  the  vain  effort  to  transfer  to 
paper  the  burning  eloquence  of  his  words,  the 
volume  of  learned  argument  he  used,  and  the  im- 
pressive graces  of  his  manner.  Nothing  re- 
corded in  the  annals  of  criminal  jurisprudence 


TEE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


75 


ever  gave  rise  to  a  speech  so  thrilliiigly  eloquent 
and  grand  throughout.  As  if  some  wandering 
seraph  had  touched  his  hps  with  immortal  fire, 
he  uttered  language  which  seemed  to  change  the 
very  natures  of  those  who  a  few  short  moments 
ago  thirsted  for  blood.  They  felt  like  murderers 
themseh'es,  and  shrunk  from  the  lightning 
glance  of  his  eyes  when  the}-  happened  to  fall  on 
them.  He  appealed  to  Nature  and  her  unchang- 
ing laws  to  know  if  anything  short  of  delirium  or 
madness  could  lift  a  parricidal  hand  against  an 
aged  parent's  life,  then  was  for  a  moment  silent, 
while  not  a  sotmd  except  deep-drawn  inspira- 
tions  could  be  heard  ;  and,  having  heard  the  ora- 
cle's reply,  told  it  in  words — pungent,  unanswer- 
able and  impressive — which  made  those  who 
heard  them  tremble.  The  current  was  chang- 
ing; it  was  mingling  with  the  impetuous  torrent 
of  his  sublime  eloquence,  in  favor  of  the  prisoner; 
the  judges  had  been  seen  to  brush  more  than  one 
tear  from  their  cheeks,  while  the  jurors,  many  of 
them,  bowed  their  heads  on  their  breasts  to  hide 
their  emotion,  and  others,  forgetting  all  else  in 
the  world  beside  their  own  feelings  and  the  man 
on  whose  words  they  hung,  did  not  even  check 
the  tears  that  flowed  over  their  uplifted  faces. 
Perceiving  the  favorable  impression  he  had  made 
he  seized  the  crisis,  and,  adding  the  unlimited 
testimonials  of  good  character  which  the  man 
had  borne  from  his  youth  up,  threw  them  into 


76 


THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


the  scale,  and  was  about  seating  himself  when 
every  ear  was  startled  by  the  cry  of  ''A  witness! 
a  witness!'* 

The  crowd,  swaying  to  and  fro  for  a  minute, 
slowly  opened,  and  two  men  were  seen  support- 
ing between  them  an  old  man,  so  worn  and  ema- 
ciated, so  trembling  and  ill,  that  many  whose  im- 
aginations had  been  wrought  up  to  fever  heat 
thought  that  the  murdered  man  had  risen  from 
his  grave  to  come  and  give  testimony  of  the 
guilt  of  his  son.  But  stranger  and  wilder  grew 
the  scene  when  the  prisoner,  on  beholding  him, 
stretched  out  his  hands,  and  with  starting  eyes 
and  palHd  cheeks  exclaimed,  ''My  father!  my 
father!" 

''Not  your  father,  young  man,  but — his  mur- 
derer!" said  the  old  man,  shuddering. 

There  was  an  instantaneous  hush,  and  in  the 
expectation  of  new  marvels  every  whisper  died 
away  as  Herbert  again  rose  to  address  the 
judges,  and  although  /le  disbelieved  the  sacred 
allusions  he  made,  l/iej/  were  true^  and,  unbe- 
liever as  he  was,  he  knew  and  measured  well  their 
probable  effects.  "Heaven,  your  honors,"  said 
he,  "overrules  all.  When  the  judgments  of  men 
grow  dark,  when  their  perceptions  of  things  be- 
come dim  and  they  would  in  their  moral  blind- 
ness pronounce  hard  judgments  on  the  innocent 
as  well  as  guilty,  the  great  Lawgiver  who  rules 
creatures  deigns  iQ  interpose  his  unerring  hand 


TEE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


77 


and  withdraw  the  mist.  Stand  forth,  witness, 
and  in  God's  name  let  us  hear  the  truth!" 

After  draining  a  glass  of  wine  which  Herbert 
ordered  for  him  he  stated  that  he  was  the  brother 
of  the  murdered  man.  For  several  years  they 
had  not  spoken  in  consequence  of  their  father's 
will,  which,  for  causes  therein  specified,  had  left 
him  penniless.  He  was  determined  on  revenge, 
and  had  watched  day  after  day,  year  after  year,  for 
an  opportunity  to  acomphsh  his  object — but  in 
vain.  Hearing  accidentally  that  the  elder  Ste- 
vens and  his  son  were  staying  with  a  distant  rel- 
ative of  th-eir  own  in  town,  he  determined  to  dog 
their  steps  hourly,  if  possible,  until  the  moment 
to  which  he  had  so  long  looked  forward  should 
arrive;  he  found,  however,  that  he  should  again 
be  bafHed,  as  they,  rather  unexpectedly  to  him, 
determined  to  return  home  a  week  earlier  than 
they  at  first  intended.  The  evening  arrived  for 
their  departure,  and  as  they  were  to  walk  to  a 
certain  ferry  to  meet  their  wagon  on  the  other 
side,  he,  under  the  covert  shades  of  twilight,  fol- 
lowed them  closely.  He  heard  his  brother  say, 
''Here,  Willie,  take  my  watch  and  put  it  on;  I 
am  going  to  hunt  about  here  among  the  trees 
for  a  staft,  and  might  break  or  lose  it ;  and  lend 
me  your  knife,  boy;  mine  is  in  my  other  coat 
pocket."  In  trying  to  open  the  large  blade  of 
the  knife,  which  was  new,  and  the  spring,  of 
course,  very  strong,  his  finger  and  thumb  slipped, 


78 


THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


and  it  closed  with  great  force  over  the  fingers  of 
his  left  hand,  which  grasped  the  handle.  His 
son  released  his  hand  and  bound  up  the  wound 
with  his  own  pocket-handkerchief.  ''I  will  sit 
here  and  rest  awhile,  Willie,"  he  said;  "I  cannot 
bear  a  cut  like  this  as  I  used  to  do.  Do  you  go 
on  slowly.  I  am  afraid  the  wagon  might  come 
before  we  get  there,  and,  not  seeing  one  of  us, 
go  away  again.  Open  your  knife  for  me  and  lay 
it  here;  my  fingers  feel  better,  and  I  will  get  me 
a  staff  and  soon  overtake  you."  ''The  boy 
there,"  continued  the  hoary  sinner,  ''gathered 
some  dried  leaves  together  and  made  his  father 
a  more  comfortable  seat,  and  hurried  on.  Need 
I  tell  how  Hke  a  cat — how  stealthily  I  crept  be- 
hind my  brother — how  I  snatched  the  knife  and 
plunged  it  with  true  aim  into  his  heart — how  he 
uttered  one  low  cry  and  breathed  no  more?  No; 
I  cared  not  for  these;  my  revenge  was  complete. 
His  son  wore  his  father's  watch;  here  was  the 
son's  handkerchief  about  the  father's  hand  and 
his  knife  in  his  heart.  He  would  be  suspected  ; 
no  one  knew  that  /  was  his  brother;  I  had 
changed  my  name  in  another  country  years  ago; 
/le  would  be  kun^-  and  /  regain  my  patrimony. 
It  turned  out  as  I  expected;  the  boy  there  has 
been  on  the  eve  of  hanging  for  long  months.  At 
first  I  did  not  care;  but  remorse — oh,  can  the 
everlasting  sting  of  hell  equal  its  pangs!"  ex- 
claimed the  man.    "I  wanted  to  clear  the  boy. 


THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


79 


but  was  afraid — a  coward — afraid  to  die,  as  it 
was  thought  he  would  die;  but,  murderer  as  I 
was,  I  thanked  God  every  time  a  trial  resulted 
in  no  verdict.  I  am  dying,  sirs;  I  have  nothing 
to  fear  from  your  judgments,  else  maybe  I  would 
not  now  be  here.  I  have  cheated  you  and  the 
gibbet,  at  any  rate.  There  is  a  will,  boy,  leaving 
you  twice  as  much  as  the  paltry  sum  for  which 
I  murdered  your  father.  Do  not  be  afraid  of  it; 
it  was  honestly  earned  in  a  distant  land.  I — but 
water — water — I  burn — give  me  but  a  drop — 
there,  my  tongue  is  cooler  now.    The  will,  I  say, 

you  will  find  with  Father  .    But  there! — 

there! — that  streaming  heart!  those  long,  white 

hairs — oh,   horror;     hor  ".      He  fell  hack 

dead. 

It  was  in  vain.  All  the  judges  on  earth  might 
have  been  there,  with  all  the  allies  of  the  law,  to 
proclaim  order  and  silence;  they  might  just  as 
well  have  tried  to  hush  the  thunder,  or  bind  the 
ocean  tides,  as  to  still  that  excited  multitude. 
Cheers,  exultant  cries,  yells  of  triumph,  joined 
in  one  tremendous  chorus,  and  while  one  party 
seized  Herbert  and  Hfted  him  from  the  floor  to 
their  shoulders,  another  crov/ded  about  the  be- 
wildered Willie  Stevens,  and,  elevating  him  to 
the  same  lofty  position,  carried  them  in  a  tri- 
umphant procession  from  the  court-house. 

''You  was  in  fun,  old  fellow,  you  was,  I  know,'* 
cried  a  man  whose  face  was  half  hidden  under  ^ 


80  THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


red  handkerchief  to  the  state  attorney;  ''so  come, 
we'll  give  you  a  hoist,  and  them  'ere  owls,  too,  if 
they'd  like  to  ride." 

A  roar  of  laughter  followed  the  rude  jest,  in 
which  the  dignitaries  alluded  to  were  good- 
natured  enough  to  join;  which  so  pleased  the 
facetious  mob  that,  had  they  not  escaped  from  a 
side  door  very  quickly,  they  would  have  been 
without  doubt  treated  to  the  promised  ride. 
The  body  of  the  murderer  was  found  crushed  and 
Hterally  trampled  out  of  all  resemblance  to  hu- 
manity. It  was  taken  possession  of  by  the  mob 
and  buried  amidst  their  jeers  and  execrations 
beneath  the  gibbet.  The  whole  city  seemed 
frantic  with  deHght,  and  determined  on  a  holi- 
day in  honor  of  Herbert  and  the  remarkable 
event  in  which  he  had  borne  so  conspicuous  a 
part.  A  civic  feast  was  prepared,  at  which  more 
than  three  hundred  ladies  of  beauty  and  stand- 
ing were  present  wnth  their  fathers,  brothers 
and  friends,  who,  after  an  eloquent  speech  of 
thanks  from  Herbert  for  the  great  honors 
which  had  been  proffered  him,  gave  him, 
through  the  most  beautiful  of  their  number, 

a  laurel  crown,  which  Judge  C  ch  placed 

on  his  head,  saying,  ''Sir,  you  deserve  it !"  Tears 
gushed  to  his  eyes,  and,  turning  to  hide  his  emo- 
tion, he  found  himself  clasped  in  his  father's 
arms,  while  his  mother,  with  Blanche,  Corinne, 
and  Mr.  Leslie,  surrounded  him.     The  whole 


TEE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY.  81 


party,  with  a  large  company  of  friends,  returned 
with  them  the  next  morning  to  the  Oaklands, 
to  spend  a  day  in  festivity  and  social  pleasure. 
And  a  proud  day  it  was. 


82  THE  ^BIBTER  OF  CHARITY. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE  ATHEIST— SISTER  THERESE— THE 
RETURN. 

AMONG  the  first  to  leave  the  social  party  at 
the  Oaklands  that  night  were  Mr.  Leslie 
and  his  fair  daughters.  Mrs.  Herbert 
and  her  son,  who  had  entered  the  drawing-room 
for  the  first  time  since  dinner,  just  as  they  were 
making  their  adieus,  followed  them  to  the  door, 
where  they  all  stood,  reciprocating  kind  regrets 
and  mutual  invitations,  with  all  those  little 
agreeable  nothings — words,  of  course,  which  are 
deemed  so  essential  in  society. 

"Shall  we  walk  or  drive  home  to-night,  la- 
dies?" inquired  Mr.  Leslie. 

"It  would  be  little  short  of  high  treason  to  her 
majesty  the  moon  to  drive,"  said  Corinne,  gayly, 
"when  she  dispenses  her  charms  so  graciously. 
Only  look!" 

"Beautiful,  quiet,  delightful,  it  will  be,  a  walk 
beneath  those  shady  oaks  with  the  moonbeams 
stealing  through,"  said  Herbert,  laughing;  "will 
Miss  Leslie  allow  me  to  be  her  escort?" 

"Miss  Leslie  could  scarcely  refuse  so  small  a 


TEE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY, 


83 


favor  to  the  hero  of  the  day;  but,  remember,  she 
will  exact  poetic  effusions,  and  perhaps  a  pas- 
toral ditty  about  the  moonlight,  stars,  and  rural 
shades,"  replied  Corinne,  in  the  same  gay  man- 
ner. 

"I  suppose  7/2jy  knight,"  said  Blanche,  taking 
her  father's  arm,  "will  charm  me  with  a  few 
dreams  of  the  olden  time  on  our  homeward  way; 
for,  with  its  ancient  trees  with  their  gnarled 
trunks  and  fantastic  branches  meeting  overhead, 
the  moonlight  stealing  through  at  intervals, 
throwing  long  shadows  across  the  way,  and  the 
dim  perspective,  it  reminds  one  of  some  castel- 
lated ruin  or  deserted  abbey." 

''One  would  fancy,  my  dear  madam,"  said  Mr. 
Leslie  to  Mrs.  Herbert,  "from  the  conversation 
of  these  madcaps  of  ours,  that  we  were  all  going 
to  fairy-land.  But,  good-night,  again;  we  have 
already  detained  you  too  long  from  your  guests." 

Their  adieus  being  finally  made,  the  gay  party 
passed  on.  The  carriage  was  sent  home  by  a 
more  circuitous  route,  and  Mr.  Leslie  and 
Blanche,  leading  the  way,  were  soon  lost  sight  of 
by  Herbert  and  Corinne,  who  lingered  time  after 
time  to  admire  the  witchery  of  the  scene  and  be- 
guile the  distance  of  all  weariness  by  pleasant 
and  mirthful  words,  such  only  as  can  spring  from 
the  most  peaceful  and  joyous  founts  of  the 
heart. 

"A  boon!  a  boon,  fair  ladye!''  exclaimed  Her- 


84  TEE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


bert,  after  endeavoring  in  vain  to  turn  aside  some 
remarks,  half  ironical,  half  complimentary,  which 
she  had  been  making  on  his  late  brilliant  effort 
with  its  attendant  adventures;  "I  am  over- 
whelmed, annihilated.  Do,  for  sweet  pity's 
sake,  let  us  change  the  conversation  from  my 
unworthy  self  to  something  better." 

*'Grace  is  granted,  sir,"  replied  Corinne;  ''but 
what  other  topic  is  now  left  in  this  world  of  ours 
to  talk  on?  Mr.  Herbert  and  his  splendid  repu- 
tation absorb  all  else." 

''What  other?  A  thousand;  your  cousin  and 
my  old  friend,  St.  Johns,  who,  your  father  tells 
me,  has  turned  papist;  the  storm,  the  wreck;  the 
strange  lady  and  child,  your  guests — all  are  fruit- 
ful themes,"  he  answered,  half  petulantly. 

"We  are  expecting  our  cousin  daily.  He  has 
become  a  Catholic;  whether  that  name  is  synony- 
mous with  the  word  papist  I  leave  it  to  your  in- 
genuity to  determine,"  answered  Corinne, 
gravely. 

''Satisfactory,  indeed!"  repHed  Herbert.  "Can 
you  tell  me  nothing  interesting?  Can  you 
weave  no  little  romance  concerning  the  lady  and 
child  who  became  your  guests  in  so  remarkable 
a  manner?" 

"Nothing,  absolutely  nothing,"  said  Corinne, 
"except  that  both  are  extremely  beautiful,  and 
the  lady  belongs  to  a  reHgious  order  and  is  called 
a  Sister  of  Charity." 


TEE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


85 


''Another  papist,"  muttered  Herbert. 

''An  order,"  continued  Corinne,  without  no- 
ticing his  remark  beyond  a  momentary  glance 
of  surprise,  ''whose  spirit  incites  its  members  to 
the  most  heroic  acts  which  it  is  possible  to  con- 
ceive. Could  I  believe  as  Catholics  do,  such  a 
life  would  be  my  irrevocable  choice." 

"Impossible!"  exclaimed  he. 

"And  why?"  inquired  Cora. 

"Because,"  he  repHed,  vehemently,  "the  creed 
which  they  profess  is  vile  and  idolatrous;  its  in- 
genuity as  a  system  renders  it  more  vile;  they  are 
its  slaves,  and,  bound  as  they  are  to  uphold  its 
pretensions,  they  assume  the  garb  of  humiUty 
and  the  acts  of  heroic  saints." 

"Happy  would  it  be,  then,  for  the  social  good 
of  mankind,"  said  Cora,  "did  the  laws  of  all  re- 
ligious systems  teach  such  charity  towards  men, 
and  impose  such  practices  of  Christian  virtue  on 
their  followers.  Of  their  particular  creed,  of 
which  you  singularly  enough  speak  so  bitterly, 
I  know  but  little;  but  if  it  is  calculated  thus  to 
elevate  its  votaries  to  a  position  but  'Httle  low^er 
than  the  angels,'  I  will  know  something  more 
positive  concerning  it  than  I  do  now,  ere  long. 
The  very  circumstance  of  my  cousin's  becoming 
a  Catholic — a  man  whose  mind  was  not  apt  to 
be  influenced  by  anything  except  the  sublimest 
principles  of  right,  has  caused  me  to  thmk  of- 
tener  than  once  ■" 


86 


THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY, 


'That  the  papists  are  right?"  interrupted 
Herbert. 

''At  least  not  far  from  it,"  said  Cora,  readily. 
"Mr.  Herbert,  I  never  yet  heard  a  person,  a  sys- 
tem or  theory  calumniated  without  feeUng  the 
keenest  wish  to  examine,  myself,  into  the  minu- 
tiae of  the  case,  with  all  its  comparative  merits 
and  demerits.  Whether  this  proceeds  from  a 
whim  or  a  generous  impulse  I  am  not  quite 
impartial  enough  to  say;  however,  it  will  not  of 
consequence  make  me  a  papist,  as  you  so  ele- 
gantly call  Catholics,  to  learn  their  own  mean- 
ing of  the  faith  they  profess." 

"You  will  find  it,  no  doubt,  like  all  others — 
fallacious.  I  wish  you  joy  of  your  task,"  said 
Herbert,  bitterly.  "But  why,"  continued  he 
more  gently,  "why  disturb  the  heretofore  tran- 
quil repose  of  your  mind  to  find  a  religion  for  a 
heart  already  as  pure  as  the  fabled  angels  of 
which  we  read?  Could  we  be  sure  of  the  exis- 
tence of  a  God,  did  we  know  that  a  Christ  really 
had  died  for  the  salvation  of  mankind,  could  we 
believe  the  pleasing  legends  connected  there- 
with, no  care,  no  pains,  no  torture,  would  be  too 
great  for  the  attainment  of  such  an  object." 

"Do  I  hear  you  aright?"  said  Corinne,  pausing 
and  looking  into  his  face,  inexpressibly  shocked. 
"Evelyn  Herbert,  are  you  an  atheist?" 

"A  philosopher,  if  it  please  you  better.  Miss 
Leslie.    But  we  have  forgotten  the  object  of 


THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


87 


our  walk,  which  was,  if  you  remember,  to  enjoy 
the  poetry  of  this  quiet  scene.  How  beautiful 
this  lower  world;  how  calmly  it  seems  to  slum- 
ber in  the  arms  of  bright-eyed  night !  Oh,  if  one 
might  live  forever  in  such  an  Eden,  if  utter  an- 
nihilation did  not  come  at  last,  what  might  not 
the  mind  accomplish,  what  enjoy?  What  pin- 
nacles might  it  not  attain,  how  boldly  might  it 
penetrate  the  mysteries  of  nature  and  grasp  the 
very  stars!  But  pardon  me;  such  themes  as 
these  suit  not  the  present  scene,  or  such  gentle 
hearing  as  your  own,  ]\Iiss  Leslie." 

''I  think  not,  indeed,"  replied  Corinne,  in  a 
cold,  grave  tone;  "I  think  not.  And  how  one 
could  dare,  in  the  face  of  yonder  creation  of  hea- 
venly light  and  wonder,  in  hearing  of  the  low, 
sweet  music  of  nature,  with  a  consciousness  of 
mind — that  mystery,  with  all  its  prescient  in- 
stincts ever  tending  upwards — with  every  heart- 
pulse  beating  in  obedience  to  the  breath  which 
God  gives,  with  sentient  perceptions  and  the 
consciousness  of  soul  throughout,  to  deny  the 
Master-hand  which  governs  all,  is  a  sad,  sad  mys- 
tery to  me.    Surely  you  jest,  ^Ir.  Herbert." 

"Aliss  Leslie  thinks  me,  then,  in  error?" 

''As  an  atheist?  in  mad  error,"  replied  Cora. 

''I  /laz'e  been  in  error  on  one  point  truly,"  said 
he.  ''Observing  always  that  your  father  never 
fettered  himself  by  the  doctrines  of  any  creed,  or 
impressed  the  necessity  of  any  peculiar  tenets  on 


88 


THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


yourselves,  I  really  imagined,  regarding  him  as 
a  man  of  calm,  rational  sense,  that  he  placed  as 
little  faith  as  myself  in  such  futile  chimeras." 

''Sir,  my  father  believes  not  less  in  the  revela- 
tions of  God  because  he  has  attached  himself  to 
no  particular  creed.  He  has  been  searching  for 
one  which  corresponded  with  his  standard  of  per- 
fection, which  possessed  all  those  qualities  which 
he  deems  essential  to  a  church  founded  by  God. 
He  seeks  for  a  unity  of  doctrines,  a  religion  with- 
out those  perplexities  which  distract  the  soul — 
in,  short,  something  different  from  those  with 
which  we  are  familiar,  which,  forever  differing 
and  disputing  about  their  contradictory  creeds, 
leaves  one  in  great  doubt  whether  any  among 
them  are  acknowledged  of  God.  I  make  this  ex- 
planation in  justice  to  my  father,"  said  Corinne, 
proudly. 

''Your  father  is  right;  though  I  much  fear  that 
his  search  will  be  as  fruitless  as  the  search  of  phil- 
osophers for  that  fabled  stone,  which,  it  is  said, 
will,  among  other  miracles,  transmute  the  basest 
metals  into  gold.  The  very  discord  which  per- 
vades Christendom,  the  wide  difference  in  their 
various  theories,  their  disagreements  on  doc- 
trinal points,  is  a  tangible  proof  in  favor  of  my 
argument;  for  if  there  is  a  God,  the  truth  which 
emanates  from  him  must  be  consistent  and  eter- 
nal. They  all  claim  Him  as  the  origin  of  their 
numerous  sectaries,  and  yet  nothing  can  surpass 


THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


89 


the  inconsistencies  they  practice,  or  the  everlast- 
ing changeableness  of  those  principles  which, 
they  declare,  proceed  from  Him.  Believe  me,  it 
is  all  visionary — based  on  nothing  more  positive 
than  mere  hypothesis." 

''No!  no!"  said  Corinne,  earnestly;  ''your  de- 
ductions are  false;  I  pronounce  them  so  without 
hesitation.  As  well  might  you  attempt  to  con- 
vince me  that  the  sun  has  set  forever,  because 
his  light,  hidden  from  us,  illumes  another  hemi- 
sphere, or  that  the  breath  of  life  does  not  per- 
vade my  being  because  I  see  only  its  operations 
and  effects  and  not  itself,  as  to  attempt  to  con- 
vince me  that  there  is  not  a  God;  that  I  have  no 
immortality  in  my  nature,  or  that  religion  is  a 
fable.  Oh,  Herbert !  as  you  value  my  friendship, 
never  again  shock  my  ears  by  a  repetition  of  such 
falsehoods — such  wicked  philosophy!" 

"Beautiful  enthusiast!"  he  said;  "you  alone  of 
all  the  world  might  win  me  from  it,  might  teach 
me  to  beheve  in  all  that  you  adore,  and  lead  me, 
gently  on,  step  by  step,  from  my  long-cherished 
opinions." 

"As  how  could  this  miracle  be  wrought?"  said 
Corinne,  coldly  withdrawing  the  hand  which  he 
had  taken  within  his  own. 

"By  listening,"  he  whispered,  "to  the  tale  of 
love  so  long  w^ithheld  and  fondly  dreamed  over; 
that  I  would  tell  you,  by  becoming  my  bride'' 

"This  is  strange  wooing,"  said  Corinne,  loftily. 


90 


THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


"Methinks  Mr.  Herbert  might  have  anticipated 
an  unfavorable  answer,  after  so  candid  an  avowal 
of  his  atheistical  opinions.  I  would  not  dare, 
sir,  entrust  my  happiness  with  one  who,  like  a 
bark  unmoored  from  the  haven  of  God's  love,  7 
has  no  beacon-Hght,  no  guide,  or  steadfast  prin- 
ciples to  direct  it  among  those  strong  undercur- 
rents and  whirlpools  which  draw  it  at  last  into 
a  stormy  vortex  of  irremediable  ruin." 
am  answered,"  he  said,  proudly. 

"Yes,"  said  Corinne,  with  a  faltering  voice; 
*'and  I  feel  sincerely  grateful  that  you,  in  an  un- 
guarded moment,  made  a  revelation  of  that 
which  has  perhaps  saved  me  from  a  life  of  unut- 
terable misery." 

"You  mean  to  say,"  replied  Herbert,  more 
gently,  "that  were  it  not  for  the  philosophy  I 
profess  you  would  perhaps  turn  a  more  favorable 
eye  on  my  pretensions  to  your  hand." 

"Your  vanity,"  said  Corinne,  again  speaking 
coldly  and  composedly,  "can  interpret  my  mean- 
ing in  that  light,  if  it  pleases  you.  Let  this  sub- 
ject hereafter  be  an  interdicted  one  between  us." 

"A  certain  old  legend  tells  us  of  a  fair  maiden, 
who,  being  exposed  in  her  infancy  in  a  desert, 
was  nurtured  by  doves.  One  would  have 
thought  that  such  gentle  ministrations  would 
have  softened  the  instinctively  savage  nature  of 
a  barbarian;  but  that  maiden  grew,  and,  as  her 
peerless  beauty  ripened,  ambition,  pride,  and  a 


THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


91 


passion  for  conquest  ripened  with  it,  and  she  who 
was  nurtured  by  the  wdiite-winged  messengers 
of  peace  excelled  all  the  warriors  of  her  time  by 
her  wonderful  triumphs  and  successes  in  war. 
That  was  a  proud,  high  spirit,  which  proved  such 
a  traitor  to,  and  dared  soar  above  all  the  gentler 
feeHngs  of  her  sex,''  said  Herbert,  pointedly. 

'T  will  not  affect  to  misunderstand  your  clas- 
sical allusion.  It  is  true  that  I,  like  Semiramis, 
have  been  nurtured  by  all  the  gentlest,  truest, 
most  holy  ministrations,  but,  unlike  her,  I  will  not 
play  traitor  to  them.  Corinne  LesHe  will  ever 
remain  true  to  herself,"  said  Cora. 

During  the  foregoing  conversation  Corinne 
had  discovered  several  times,  as  Herbert  bowed 
his  face  near  her  own,  that  his  breath  was  deeply 
tainted  with  the  juice  of  the  vine,  and  the  fear, 
added  to  the  pang  of  discovering  his  atheistical 
principles,  that  he  resorted  habitually  to  exciting 
stimulants,  caused  her  to  assume  an  air  of  cold 
hauteur  to  hide  the  troubled  emotions  of  her 
heart,  which  heretofore,  believing  him  to  be  the 
incarnation  of  all  that  was  excellent  in  human 
nature,  had  perhaps  bestowed  more  of  its  regard 
on  him  than  she  was  herself  aware  of,  and  caused 
her  sometimes  to  hope  that  the  prognostics  of 
the  world  concerning  them  would  be  eventually 
realized. 

During  the  excitement  of  that  convivial  day  at 
the  Oaklands,  Evelyn  Herbert  had,  contrary  to 


92  TEE  SISTER  OF  CHARITT. 


his  usual  custom,  indulged  freely  his  thirst  for 
wine,  and  reconciled  himself  to  the  act  by  wish- 
ing to  believe  that  a  duty  to  his  guests  required 
it.  Those  who  witnessed  his  deep  potations 
found  a  ready  excuse  for  him  in  the  excitement 
of  the  scene  around  him  and  the  fancied  necessity 
he  was  under  of  drinking  the  enthusiastic  toasts 
in  his  honor  which  were  proposed  by  his  father 
and  his  own  most  valued  friends;  and  it  was  only 
when  they  discovered  from  his  maudlin  looks 
and  incoherent  language  that  he  was  overcome 
by  his  frequent  potations  that  they  desisted  from 
their  well-meant  flatteries  and  cruel  kindness. 
Judge  Herbert,  with  a  painful  misgiving  at  his 
heart,  made  the  motion  for  retiring  from  the  ta- 
ble, and,  apologizing  to  his  guests,  took  his  son's 
arm  and  led  him  himself  to  his  own  chamber, 
where,  assisted  by  his  confidential  servant,  he  ap- 
plied the  usual  restoratives,  and,  placing  him 
near  an  open  window,  through  which  a  strong 
draught  of  cool  air  swept,  bathed  with  his  own 
hands  the  young  man's  head,  face  and  chest  with 
ice  water.  In  a  short  time  he  was  partially  re- 
covered from  his  momentary  intoxication,  and 
advised  by  his  father  to  walk  some  distance  in 
the  open  air  ere  he  rejoined  his  friends  in  the 
drawing  room.  He  did  so,  and  had  just  re- 
turned when  he  offered  his  services  to  Corinne. 
But  partially  restored  to  his  usual  equilibrium, 
and  still  suffering  some  mental  derangement  in 


TEE  SISTER  OF  CEARITY. 


93 


consequence  of  his  imprudence,  he  betrayed  the 
three  hitherto  closely-guarded  secrets  of  his 
life — his  love  for  Corinne,  his  atheistical  princi- 
ples, and  fondness  for  wine;  and  in  such  a  way 
were  they  developed,  and  so  unexpectedly,  that 
she  had  scarcely  recovered  from  the  indignant 
shock  her  feelings  had  sustained  when  they 
reached  Elverton  Hall. 

''Will  Miss  Leslie  allow  the  repentance  of  a 
lifetime  to  atone  for  the  faults  of  to-day?"  asked 
Herbert,  by  this  time  fully  conscious  of  his  folly, 
and  keenly  mortified  at  all  which  had  occurred. 
"Is  there  no  act  of  virtue,  daring  or  morality  in 
the  future  by  which  I  might  in  your  estimation 
cancel  the  past  and  recover  the  esteem  of  one 
whose  good  opinion  I  prize  beyond  that  of  all  the 
world?" 

''You  have  my  friendship  and  my  prayers," 
said  Cora,  in  a  low  voice. 

"Will  you  not  bid  me  hope,"  he  persisted, 
"that  at  some  future  day  I  may  worthily  win 
your  more  tender  regards?" 

"Mr.  Herbert,"  she  replied,  firmly,  "we  are  to 
meet  hereafter  as  friends  only.  Let  me  beg  of 
you,  under  pain  of  my  displeasure,  never  to  re- 
new this  conversation  again.  I  forgive  you  all 
which  has  passed  to-night  that  is  strange;  your 
secrets  are  safe  wath  me.  But  be  warned  in  time. 
You  stand  on  the  brink  of  a  deep  abyss;  ruin  here 
and  ruin  hereafter  threaten  you.   Repent;  spurn 


94 


TEE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


all  that  is  unworthy  of  a  soul  like  yours;  let  it, 
obeying  its  instincts,  soar  upward  and  reclaim 
that  faith  in  God  to  which  it  is  an  alien;  drag  it 
not  lower  down;  wrap  it  not  in  vain,  darkening 
illusions — and  oh!  may  I,  dare  I,  by  our  childish 
days,  by  your  mother's  love  and  your  gray-haired 
father's  pride,  and  by  those  claims  which  society 
has  on  you,  beseech  you  to  taste  not,  touch  not 
the  *wine  when  it  is  red;'  it  brings  at  last  misery, 
crime  and  death  in  its  ghastly  train." 

^'Lovely  moraHst!"  said  Herbert,  sadly,  as  he 
gazed  on  the  matchless  beauty  of  her  young  and 
innocent  face,  which,  turned  slightly  upward, 
was  bathed  in  a  fair  stream  of  moonlight;  ''you 
might  win  a  fallen  angel  to  repentance!  Let  me 
but  win  your  hand,  then  teach,  guide,  mould  me 
as  you  will!" 

''No  more,  sir!  no  more!  When  principles  of 
high  duty  actuate  me,  no  power  on  earth  can 
alter  or  change  my  position,"  said  Cora,  as  she 
entered  the  house.  "We  will,  if  you  please,  join 
my  father  and  sister,  who  are  sitting  at  yonder 
open  window,  wondering,  no  doubt,  at  our  long 
absence." 

But  he  did  not  enter  with  her,  and,  bowing  his 
head  profoundly  on  his  breast,  left  her  without 
uttering  another  word  and  walked  with  a  rapid 
step  homeward.  A  few  of  his  mother's  guests, 
who  were  to  remain  all  night,  lingered  still  in  the 
drawing-room,  carrying  on  a  drowsy  conversa- 


TEE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


95 


tion,  which  he,  agitated  as  he  was,  cared  not  to 
interrupt.  ^Meeting  one  of  the  servants  as  he 
was  going  to  his  own  apartment,  he  bade  her  say 
to  her  mistress  that  he  was  extremely  unweh  and 
had  retired.  Alone,  he  soon  began  to  brood 
over  the  mortifying  incidents  of  the  day  and  eve- 
ning. He  opened  his  books  and  tried  to  feel  in- 
terested in  his  favorite  authors,  but  in  vain;  he 
then  snatched  up  his  pen  and  commenced  the 
first  page  of  a  chapter  on  political  economy,  but 
it  was  of  no  avail;  the  demon  still  tugged  at  his 
heart-strings,  until,  half  maddened,  he  flew  again 
to  the  Lethean  draught,  and  in  copious  pota- 
tions stilled  the  voice  of  busy  memory. 

After  her  guests  had  retired  }vlrs.  Herbert, 
with  a  mother's  fond  and  anxious  love,  went  to 
his  room,  determined  to  enter  softly,  without 
disturbing  his  slumbers,  and  see  if  perchance 
there  was  a  fever-glow  on  his  cheeks,  or  an  ex- 
pression of  pain  on  his  forehead.  But  how  did 
she  find  this  idol  of  her  heart,  whose  midnight 
sleep  she  had  come  to  watch?  His  wearied 
frame  resting  quietly,  while  the  still  face,  tired 
with  expressions  of  busy  thought,  wore  a  look  of 
calm  repose?  No!  none  of  these;  but,  standing 
with  the  aspect  of  a  madman,  she  beheld  her  son, 
declaiming  with  flushed  features  and  wild  ges- 
tures on  the  laws  of  his  yHq  philosophy.  This 
was  the  third  time  she  had  found  him  thus.  Each 
time  she  had  hoped  was  the  last,  but  now — she 


96 


THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


sunk  into  a  chair,  and  with  a  passionate  burst  of 
tears  exclaimed,  "My  son!  my  son!"  Making  a 
violent  effort  to  be  sober,  for  his  mother's  tones 
Jof  agony  thrilled  through  every  vein  of  his  heart, 
he  came  towards  her,  and,  bending  on  one  knee 
by  her  side,  drew  her  hands  away  from  her  face, 
to  kiss  her  cheek,  but  in  making  the  attempt  his 
head  fell  heavily  on  her  bosom,  and  had  she  not 
with  a  quick  effort  thrown  her  arms  about  him 
he  would  have  fallen  to  the  floor.  ''Evelyn,  my 
child,  arise,"  said  his  mother;  "arise,  and  be  your 
noble  self  again.  Oh,  my  son!  my  son!"  she 
cried,  while  floods  of  burning,  bitter  tears  fell 
from  her  eyes  on  his  head  and  face,  "let  me  hear 
you  recall  the  words  which  you  have  spoken — 
speak  to  me,  I  command  you!" 

"Yes,"  he  muttered  at  intervals,  "all  right  but 
the  last.  Zeno  and  Epicurus  were  men  of  sense, 
but  Lucretius  and  Voltaire  were  the  master  spir- 
its of  their  age.  Plato  was  a  dreaming  fool;  I 
tell  you,  mother,  he  was;  and  Hesiod,  star-gazer 
and  ploughman,  Uke  our  friend  Mr.  Leslie;  and 
the  fishermen  with  their  teacher — pshaw! 
Come,  mother,  let  us  walk  among  the  stars  to- 
night; come,  let  us  go.  We'll  go  up — ha — ha — 
on  a  rainbow,  and  I  will  carry  you  along  the 
milky  way.  Ha!  mother,  will  it  not  be  brave?'* 
He  attempted  to  rise,  but  again  fell,  almost  drag- 
ging his  mother  with  him  to  the  floor.  She  laid 
his  head  gently  down  and  softly  locked  the  door; 


TEE  SISTER  OF.  CHARITY. 


97 


then,  getting  pillows  from  the  sofa  and  bed,  laid 
them  tenderly  beneath  his  shoulders  and  head, 
and  sat  beside  him  to  watch  until  the  day-dawn 
came.  She  remembered  that  it  was  on  this 
night  twenty-eight  years  ago  that  he  lay — an  an- 
gel— about  leaving  earth  and  its  many  sorrows 
and  cares  for  the  everlasting  and  safe  repose  of 
the  spirit-land,  and  remembered  how  her  un- 
holy prayers  had  recalled  him  back  to  life,  and 
their  memory  now  came,  like  an  adder's  sting, 
piercing  her  soul.  ''Oh,  that  he  had  died!  oh! 
that  I  had  not  lived  to  see  this  day !  My  son !  my 
son!"  were  the  exclamations  which  resounded 
at  intervals  with  startling  distinctness  through 
that  silent  room.  And  well  they  might,  for  how 
could  she  gaze  on  the  manly  form,  the  finely  chis- 
elled face  of  her  only  child,  and  think  of  the  he- 
roic heart  and  splendid  mind,  all  wrapped  in  bes- 
tial and  disgusting  lethargy,  without  feeling  and 
expressing  the  keenest  anguish?  Angels  might 
have  folded  their  wings  and  wept  with  her  over 
the  splendid  wreck. 

Corinne's  slumbers  that  night  were  neither 
deep  nor  quiet,  and  the  next  morning  her  father 
and  sister,  with  their  guest,  observed  a  subdued 
expression  in  her  usually  mirthful  face  and  man- 
ner, which,  while  it  added  a  greater  charm  to  her 
beauty,  they  could  in  no  wise  account  for.  Even 
the  little  Irene  was  tended  and  caressed  without 
the  usual  gay  smile  and  cheerful  manner. 


98 


THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


*'You  are  not  well,  Cora,"  said  Blanche,  anx- 
iously. 

^'Perfectly  well,  dear  sister,"  she  replied,  ''but 
a  little  dull  from  passing  a  sleepless  night." 

"The  excitement  of  the  last  few  days  has  been 
too  much  for  even  your  gay  spirits.  I  must  con- 
fess that  I  was  heartily  glad  to  return  to  the  be- 
loved quiet  of  home,"  replied  Blanche. 

"I  was  fearful,"  said  Mr.  Leslie,  smiling,  "that 
the  difficulty  which  you  seemed  to  have  last 
night  in  finding  your  way  home  would  tire  you. 
What  road  did  you  take?" 

"We  followed  you,  dear  father,"  said  Cora, 
slightly  confused;  "but  the  night  was  beautiful 
and  " 

"You  were  disposed  to  enjoy  it;  however,  re- 
fresh yourself  by  taking  a  siesta  before  dinner, 
and  when  I  return  let  me  see  smiles  on  your  lips 
and  roses  on  your  cheeks  again,"  said  Mr.  Leslie, 
kissing  them  both  affectionately.  He  then  pro- 
ceeded, as  was  his  usual  custom,  to  visit  the  old 
and  infirm  on  his  estate,  Hsten  to  their  griev- 
ances and  supply  their  wants;  after  which, 
mounting  his  horse,  he  generally  rode  around 
the  plantation,  cheering  by  his  presence  and  kind 
manner  those  who  worked  or  tilled  the  soil  for 
him.  He  always  ended  the  morning  by  spend- 
ing an  hour  in  overlooking  the  erection  of  a  small 
gothic  structure,  which  he  intended  to  use  as  a 
summer  study-room.    It  was  nearly  completed, 


TEE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


99 


and  the  workmen  only  waited  the  arrival  of  the 
stained  glass  for  the  windows,  which  was  daily 
expected,  to  give  the  finishing  touches  to  the 
exquisitely  symmetrical  little  edifice.  The  quiet 
and  shaded  location  which  he  had  chosen  was  in 
admirable  harmony  with  its  style.  A  rocky  ele- 
vation some  forty  feet  high,  covered  with  vines 
and  shrubbery,  through  which  a  tiny  stream 
bounded  from  one  projection  to  another  until 
it  fell  gushing  and  bubbHng  into  its  natural  res- 
ervoir below,  sheltered  it  on  one  side;  while  the 
tall,  graceful  pines,  sturdy  oaks,  and  the  elegant 
willow,  through  which  glimpses  of  the  distant 
ocean  might  be  viewed,  almost  surrounded  it 
with  their  exuberant  foliage  and  verdant  shade. 
Devoted  to  music,  Mr.  Leslie  had  procured  from 
the  north  a  sweet-toned  organ,  for  which  a  Hght 
and  elegant  gallery,  elevated  some  six  feet  from 
the  floor,  had  been  thrown  across  the  lower  ex- 
tremity of  the  room.  Thither  would  he  some- 
times steal  away  from  his  beloved  ones  at  home, 
and  spend  hours  listening  with  quiet  rapture  to 
the  sweet,  solemn  melodies  which  stole  forth  be- 
neath his  masterly  touch.  He  had  exacted  a 
promise  from  his  daughters  not  to  go  in  the  di- 
rection of  this  spot  until  he  granted  them  per- 
mission; nor  would  he  tell  them  why,  and  only 
added  new  excitement  to  their  curiosity  by  tell- 
ing them  to  anticipate  a  pleasant  surprise.  The 
greatest  mystery  and  secrecy  had  been  hitherto 


100  THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


observed;  the  workmen,  paying  more  regard  to 
its  concealment  than  the  truth,  mystified  the 
negroes  by  telling  the  most  improbable  ghost 
stories  concerning  the  spot,  and  tales  of  murders 
and  robberies,  until  there  was  not  one  among 
their  number  who  would  not  have  made  a  long 
circuit  to  avoid  it;  added  to  which  they  now 
sometimes  heard  those  tones  of  solemn  music  at 
night  floating  on  the  air,  as  they  passed  about 
from  one  cottage  to  another  on  the  estate,  which 
fully  confirmed  them  in  the  idea  that  the  wood 
was  haunted. 

When  the  ladies  adjourned  that  morning  to 
the  sitting-room,  and  were  all  engaged  in  some 
profitable  or  elegant  employment,  Blanche  ex- 
claimed, ''I  do  wonder  when  Edgar  and  his 
friend  will  arrive!" 

''I  have  a  presentiment,"  said  Cora,  "that  they 
will  come  to-day." 

''And  I,"  said  Sister  Therese,  "hope  most  ear- 
nestly that  letters  will  arrive  for  me  from  our  su- 
perior; this  luxurious  style  of  living  is  not  at  all 
compatible  with  the  spirit  of  our  order.  I  long 
to  be  about  my  Master's  business  again." 

"And  me  wonders  when  mine  mamma  will 
come,"  said  little  Irene,  who,  seated  on  Corinne's 
knee,  had  been  watching  with  deep  interest  the 
dressing  of  a  doll  which  had  been  purchased  for 
her.  Corinne  drew  her  close  to  her  bosom,  and, 
stooping,  kissed  the  child  to  hide  her  tears,  and 


THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


101 


said,  ''You  are  my  child,  darling.  I  will  be  your 
mamma,  and  always  love  and  take  care  of  you." 
Irene  looked  into  her  face  for  a  moment  with  an 
anxious  and  serious  expression  of  countenance, 
as  if  she  wished  to  comprehend  all  the  circum- 
stances which  surrounded  her:  but,  being  too 
young  to  remember  distinctly  the  past,  or  un- 
derstand the  present,  she  contented  herself  with 
kissing  her  friend  and  telling  her  she  "loved  her 
like  her  own  mamma,"  then  turned  again  with 
renewed  interest  to  her  doll. 

*'i\Iy  dear  sister,  whither  would  you  go? 
Surely  you  will  not  leave  us  for  three  months  to 
come,"  said  Blanche. 

"Thank  you,  my  child,  for  your  hospitable 
wishes.  I  wrote  a  week  ago  to  our  superior  at 
the  mother  house,  informing  her  of  the  sad  event 
which  has  made  me  an  inmate  of  your  house,  and 
requested  an  answer  as  early  as  possible,  with  an 
appointment  to  some  mission.  ]\Iy  destination, 
when  I  left  Havre  four  weeks  ago,  was  Boston; 
but  some  other  sister  has,  no  doubt,  ere  this  sup- 
plied my  place  in  the  infirmary  to  which  I  was 
appointed,"  said  Sister  Therese. 

"Havre!  have  you  been  to  France?"  inquired 
Corinne. 

''Yes,  dear.  I  was  sent  thither  by  the  order 
of  an  eminent  physician,  who  believed  that  my 
lungs  were  diseased;  but,  after  spending  the  win- 
ter in  a  house  belonging  to  our  order  in  one  of 


102  THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


the  southern  provinces  of  France,  I  felt  entirely 
recovered;  when,  being  anxious  to  return,  I  was 
placed  under  the  protection  of  a  merchant  and 
his  wife — Catholics — who  were  returning  home 
to  the  United  States.  We  had  favorable  winds 
land  pleasant  weather  until  we  reached  the  capes, 
then — God's  holy  will  be  done — you  know  the 
rest,"  said  Sister  Therese,  growing  pale. 

"And  the  parents  of  Irene?"  inquired  Cora. 

''Were  strangers  to  all  on  board  and  kept  much 
aloof  from  the  society  of  the  rest  of  the  passen- 
gers. I  did  not  even  hear  their  names,"  she  an- 
swered. 

"God  has  sent  her  to  me,"  said  Corinne,  in  a 
low  voice;  "we  will  never  be  separated.  With 
my  father's  consent,  I  will  be  a  mother  to  her. 
I  already  love  her  with  no  common  affec- 
tion." 

"Heaven  will  bless  you,  my  child,"  said  Sister 
Therese,  looking  tenderly  at  Corinne.  ''Oh!  that 
I  could  see  you  both  living  members  of  the 
Church  of  Christ,  participants  and  behevers  in 
those  consolatory  doctrines,  and  holy  sacra- 
ments, which  would  be  so  well  appreciated  by 
souls  like  yours!" 

"We  intend  to  inform  ourselves  more  partic- 
ularly about  it  when  our  cousin  arrives,"  said 
Cora.  No  doubt  he  will  be  able  to  give  us  the 
best  of  reasons  for  embracing  the  Catholic  relig- 
ion ;  but,  dear  sister,  you  mus^  remain,  and  by 


THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY.  103 


your  example  also  teach  us.  I  am  really  wicked 
enough  to  hope  those  letters  may  not  come." 

''And  I.  We  shall  miss  your  society  so  much," 
ddded  Blanche, 

''And  I  yours,"  replied  she;  ''but  I  belong  not 
to  myself.  Neither  my  hopes,  affections,  nor 
wishes  should  be  for  an  instant  governed  by 
earthly  considerations.  Like  a  soldier,  a  Sister 
of  Charity  must  always  be  at  her  post,  ready  and 
willing  to  do  the  behests  of  her  superiors  in  all 
those  works  of  mercy  and  benevolence  which  our 
order  demands,  in  Heaven's  name,  of  its  mem- 
bers." 

"But  could  not  one  be  saved  without  such 
strict  obedience  to  earthly  superiors?"  inquired 
Corinne. 

"Of  course,  my  dear,"  answered  Sister  Ther- 
ese;  "this  obedience  to  particular  authority  is 
not  required  of  all,  and  all  are  not  called  to  the 
same  kind  or  degree  of  labor  in  the  vineyard  of 
the  Lord;  some  have  a  vocation  to  become  soli- 
taries of  the  desert;  others  to  practise  the  aus- 
terities of  the  Cistercian  rule;  some  for  the  clois- 
ter, and  others  for  works  of  more  apparent  and 
diffused  charities  in  the  world;  while,  at  the  same 
time,  those  seculars,  who,  in  the  faithful  dis- 
charge of  their  relative  duties  to  Almighty  God, 
themselves,  and  the  poor,  practise  His  divine 
laws,  and  overcome  temptations  by  prayer  and 
good  works,  and  in  all  things  evince  a  spirit  of 


104 


THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY, 


obedience  to  His  grace,  are  equally  assured  of 
salvation  through  Jesus  Christ.  But  to  those 
who  have  a  vocation,  and  place  themselves,  for 
the  better  perfecting  their  souls  in  grace,  by  the 
subjection  of  their  body  and  will,  under  a  super- 
ior, and  an  obligation  of  obedience  to  certain 
rules,  obedience  to  superiors  becomes  obedience 
to  God;  thus  it  constitutes  our  greatest  happi- 
ness, for  those  vows  which  are  voluntary  are  not 
difficult  to  fulfil,  and  when  we  reflect  that  all  our 
acts  are  done  with  reference  to  His  holy  will, 
His  greater  honor  and  glory,  and  the  salvation 
of  our  own  souls,  then  indeed  does  the  yoke  be- 
come easy  and  the  burden  Hght." 

''Your  order  are  not  cloistered  religious,  I  be- 
lieve," said  Blanche. 

"No,  dear;  our  cell  is  generally  within  a  plain 
enclosure;  our  chapel,  the  parish  church;  our 
cloister,  the  streets  of  the  city;  our  limits,  obedi- 
ence; our  grate,  the  fear  of  God;  and  our  veil,  the 
most  scrupulous  modesty.  In  obedience  to  the 
rules  established  by  our  sainted  founder,  St.  Vin- 
cent de  Paul,*  we  serve  Jesus  Christ  in  the  per- 
sons of  the  poor  and  suffering  members  of  soci- 
ety, and  labor  at  our  sanctification  by  endeavor- 
ing to  imitate  him  by  performing  our  duties  in 
a  spirit  of  humility,  simplicity,  and  charity,  and 
with  that  purity  of  intention  which  excludes  all 
vanity,  human  respect,  or  self-love.  He  pro- 
*Abelly,  Vie  de  St.  Vincent,  b.  ii.  ch.  3. 


THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


105 


posed  to  us  also  strict  obedience,  indifference  to 
place  or  office,  and  poverty,  that  we  might  the 
better  accustom  ourselves  to  a  condition  which 
becomes  the  servants  of  the  poor;  patience,  in 
order  to  suffer  cheerfully  and  for  the  love  of  God, 
all  the  inconveniences,  raillery,  slander,  and  con- 
tradictions which  we  may  experience,  even  in  do- 
ing a  good  service  to  our  neighbor.''"^ 

"Truly,  one  should  be  a  saint  to  belong  to  such 
an  order;  but  tell  me,  dear  sister,  are  your  vows 
perpetual?"'  inquired  Corinne. 

"Xo!"  answered  Sister  Therese,  smiling;  ''af- 
ter a  novitiate  of  five  years  we  make  a  vow  of 
poverty,  charity  and  obedience,  the  'obligation 
of  which  ceases  at  the  expiration  of  every  year, 
when  we  renew  it  if  we  remain  in  the  commun- 
ity." 

''Ah,  I  like  that,''  said  Corinne;  ''one  feels 
more  like  a  human  being  when  one  has  a  small 
particle  of  human  will  left ;  but  do  many  leave  at 
the  expiration  of  the  appointed  time?'' 

"It  is  a  thing  of  most  rare  occurrence  for  a 
sister  to  abandon  her  vocation."'  said  the  sister. 

''Better  still.  But  tell  me,  what  remunera- 
tion do  those  of  your  order  receive  who  minister 
to  the  sick  and  afflicted?''  said  Cora. 

"None,  positively,"  said  Sister  Therese;  "our 
rules  prohibit  us  from  receiving  even  a  small 
present  from  those  who  demand  our  charitable 

*Mrs.  Seton  was  foundress  of  the  order  in  America. 


106 


THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


offices.  Instead  of  considering  ourselves  en- 
titled to  remuneration,  we  are  instructed  to  look 
on  ourselves  as  debtors  to  the  poor,  since  our 
services  to  them  are  superabundantly  compen- 
sated by  the  rich  inheritance  which  is  accumu- 
lating for  us  in  heaven,  and  are  well  rewarded 
even  in  this  life  by  the  interior  peace  and  eminent 
satisfaction  which  we  reap  from  a  faithful  dis- 
charge of  our  duties." 

"It  is  subHme,"  said  Corinne.  "I  can  now 
readily  understand  how  good  works  and  love 
towards  God  depend  on  each  other.  One 
cannot  exist  without  the  other.  One  of  these 
days  I  will  be  a  Sister  of  Charity  myself,  perhaps. 
But'  listen!  Carriage  wheels  and  horses'  feet 
dashing  at  a  rapid  rate  up  the  avenue  at  this 
hour!    Who  can  it  be?" 

She  ran  to  the  window,  and,  loking  out,  saw  a 
travelling  carriage,  covered  with  dust  and  loaded 
with  trunks,  sweeping  round  the  gravelled  car- 
riage-way in  front  of  the  house,  and  caught  a  sin- 
gle glimpse  of  a  face  which  she  at  once  recog- 
nized, though  much  travel-worn,  as  her  cousin 
St.  Johns.  ''Oh,  it  is  Edgar!  he  has  come. 
Come,  Blanche,  let  us  run  down  quick  to  meet 
him.  Dear,  dear  cousin,  how  glad  I  am;  come, 
Blanche,  quick!  he  will  be  in  before  we  get 
down,"  cried  Corinne,  seizing  Blanche  by  the 
hand,  who,  more  timid  than  her  sister,  and  situ- 
ated differently  towards  her  cousin,  shrunk  from 


TEE  SISTER  OF  GEARITY.  107 


meeting  him  with  so  much  affectionate  frank- 
ness. 

"I  cannot,  indeed,  my  dear  Cora,"  she  said, 
drawing  away  her  hand;  "I  will  follow  you  in  a 
moment.  You  have  excited  me  too  much  by 
the  suddenness  of  your  news,  and,  remember,  my 
cousin  brings  a  stranger  with  him,  and  one  would 
like  to  be  composed  at  the  first  meeting." 

"Nonsense!  Thank  patience,  I  am  not  an 
affianced,  so  of?  I  go  to  meet  our  cousin  as  he 
should  be  met,"  said  Corinne,  laughing,  as  she 
ran  from  the  room.  In  another  moment  she  was 
clasped  in  the  arms  of  her  cousin,  Edgar  St, 
Johns,  who  had  ascended  the  steps  of  the  front 
entrance  just  as  she  reached  the  door. 

''God  bless  you,  my  sweet  cousin,"  he  said, 
kissing  her  forehead  again.  ''Where  is  Blanche? 
Ah,  Blanche!"  he  said,  approaching  her  as  she 
stood  at  a  little  distance  with  downcast  eyes  and 
flushed  cheeks;  "my  cousin,  have  you  no  word  of 
v/elcome  for  me?" 

"You  are  welcome  home,  Edgar,  truly  wel- 
come," said  she,  in  a  low  voice,  as  he  kissed  her 
cheek  respectfully. 

He  then  introduced  the  sisters  to  his  friend, 
calling  him  simply  Father  Borgia,  who  was  wel- 
comed by  them  after  the  southern  fashion,  as  if 
he  had  been  an  old  and  valued  acquaintance;  af- 
ter which  they  all  adjourned  to  the  drawing- 
room. 


108  THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY, 


"Dear  old  homestead!"  exclaimed  the  young 
man,  gazing  fondly  around  him;  "foreign  lands 
have  their  charms,  but  none  like  thine.  Where 
is  Uncle  LesHe?  where  is  Blanche?  Aha!  there 
comes  Mrs.  Murray;  how  are  you,  my  good  old 
friend?  You  see  I've  come  back  again  to  tease 
you  for  something  nice  to  eat.  Come  in. 
Amy — no  need  of  peeping;  and  Bob — how  are 
you  all — all,  how  are  you?"  said  he,  shaking  each 
one  of  those  he  had  named  by  the  hand. 

Mr.  Leslie  soon  came  in,  followed  by  Blanche, 
who  had  been  in  search  of  him,  and,  after  em- 
bracing his  nephew,  in  the  kindest  manner  wel- 
comed Father  Borgia  with  all  the  urbanity  of  a 
courteous  and  poHshed  gentleman.  Little 
Irene  came  bounding  in  from  her  play.  Her 
history  was  briefly  whispered  to  Edgar,  who 
lifted  her  tenderly  in  his  arms  and  kissed  her. 
Father  Borgia  laid  his  hand  kindly,  with  a  silent 
benediction,  on  her  head.  St.  Johns  seemed  to 
have  forgotten  the  gravity  of  a  man,  and  was  as 
wild  with  joy  as  a  schoolboy  at  being  home  once 
more;  the  whole  house  resounded  with  cheerful 
conversation  and  mirth,  and  between  one  and 
two  o'clock  at  noon  his  uncle's  people,  who  had 
heard  of  his  arrival,  came  thronging  up  to  see 
him.  He  had  a  word,  a  smile,  and  a  gift  for  all, 
with  many  promises  to  see  and  converse  with 
them  on  the  morrow. 

At  dinner  the  family  were  first  reminded  of  the 


THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


109 


change  in  his  religious  sentiments.  Ere  Father 
Borgia  and  himseh*  took  their  places  at  the  table 
they  stood  for  a  moment  or  two  in  silence,,  mak- 
ing an  act  of  gratitude  to  Almighty  God  for  the 
blessings  they  were  about  to  receive;  after  which 
they  distinctly  crossed  themselves  with  the  sign- 
manual  of  faith,  and  seated  themselves  with  the 
rest.  Sister  Therese  did  not  make  her  appear- 
ance in  the  social  circle  until  evening,  when,  be- 
ing solicited  to  do  so  by  'Mr.  Leslie  and  Blanche, 
she  glided  in  among  them  silently  and  seated 
herself  in  a  shaded  corner.  St.  Johns  was  busy 
with  Corinne,  unpacking  his  box  of  presents. 
To  his  uncle  he  brought  a  splendid  telescope, 
made  on  a  new  and  improved  plan,  and  a  picture, 
bearing  the  name  of  Salvator  Rosa,  of  an  astrol- 
oger casting  the  horoscope  of  his  daughter's  des- 
tiny. The  dark,  troubled  look  of  the  old  man, 
his  white,  flowing  hair  and  snowy  beard,  his  dark, 
rich  vestments,  drooping  in  rich  folds  about  his 
shrivelled  form,  and  the  piercing  light  of  his  keen 
black  eyes,  contrasted  well  with  the  delicate 
beauty  and  faultless  symmetry  of  the  young  girl 
who  leaned  over  him.  The  long  tresses  of  her 
hair  fell  like  sunbeams  on  the  dark  velvet  tunic 
which  covered  his  shoulders,  and  mingled 
brightly  with  his  snowy  locks  as  she  stooped  over 
him,  and  with  a  settled  expression  of  deep  repose 
on  her  exquisite  features  watched  the  mystical 
movements  of  his  hand.    The  lights  and  shades 


110  THE  8I8TER  OF  CHARITY. 


of  the  picture  were  strong  and  the  effect  start 
Hng  and  wild,  but  one  which  none  other  than  a 
master's  hand  could  produce. 

'TIere  is  something  which  I  thought  would 
suit  you,  Cora,"  said  her  cousin,  opening  a  casket 
which  contained  a  splendid  set  of  rose-colored 
cameos,  and  a  smaller  one  which  held  two  finely- 
set  bracelets  of  mocho-stones,  perfectly  trans- 
parent and  dehcately  veined  with  dehneations 
representing  mosses,  leaves  and  branches  in  the 
substance  of  the  stones.  He  brought  her  also 
one  or  two  small  cabinet  pictures,  and  a  number 
of  rare  curiosities  which  perfectly  enchanted  her. 

''By  my  faith!"  exclaimed  Mr.  LesHe,  after 
gazing  some  time  at  the  picture  St.  Johns  had 
brought  him,  ''it  is  an  admirable  likeness!" 

"Of  whom,  uncle?"  he  inquired,  coloring. 

"Of  Blanche,"  he  said,  calling  the  attention  of 
all  to  the  face  of  the  astrologer's  daughter,  which 
at  a  second  glance  at  the  points  of  resemblance 
discovered  by  Mr.  LesHe,  certainly  did  resemble 
her. 

"Within  this,  dear  Blanche,"  whispered  he, 
handing  her  an  ivory  case  inlaid  with  gold,  "is 
the  most  precious  gift  I  could  make  my  affianced 
wife.    Be  not  offended  at  it." 

She  unclasped  the  fastenings  and  saw,  lying 
on  the  velvet  lining,  an  exquisitely-carved  ivory 
crucifix  and  a  rosary  of  pearl  and  gold.  He 
watched  her  countenance  with  deep  anxiety,  and 


THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


Ill 


when  he  saw  a  flush  gradually  mantling  her 
cheeks  he  feared  she  AA'as  not  altogether  pleased 
with  his  gift;  but  this  dread  was  quickly  dispelled 
by  seeing  her  raise  the  crucifix  to  her  lips  and 
press  the  pierced  feet  to  them,  while  a  tear  rolled 
gently  down  each  cheek  and  fell  like  gems  among 
the  pearls  of  the  rosary.  "Thank  you,  dear 
cousin/"  she  said,  gently;  "your  choice  of  a  pres- 
ent has  been  most  judicious.  I  would  not  give 
it  in  exchange  for  the  most  costly  jewels  which 
could  be  offered  me."  He  pressed  her  hand,  and 
proceeded  to  uncover  one  or  two  rare  pictures 
on  sacred  subjects  which  he  had  selected  for  her. 
Old  coins,  fragments  of  antique  marbles,  small 
and  exquisitely-formed  vases  of  porphyry  and 
gold  were  next  displayed,  with  a  few  magnificent 
mosaics,  which,  delicately  shaded  and  evenly  ar- 
ranged, had  to  be  examined  closely  to  distin- 
guish them  from  fine  paintings.  "Here,  Cora," 
said  he,  drawing  a  large  package  from  the  depths 
of  the  box.  "here  is  a  roll  of  silk  for  our  old  friend 
]\Irs.  ]\Iurray;  I  bought  it  in  Florence  for  her; 
and  here  are  gay  stuft's,  handkerchiefs  and  beads 
without  number  from  Paris  and  Lyons,  for  Amy 
and  her  companions.  You  and  Blanche  must 
distribute  them  to-morrow.'' 

Blanche  removed  the  lamp-shade  which  had 
screened  Sister  Therese  from  the  observation  of 
all.  and  approached  her  for  the  purpose  of  show- 
ing her  the  crucifix.    A  glare  of  hght  streamed 


112  THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


suddenly  on  her  face,  and  St.  Johns,  whose  eyes 
were  at  the  moment  following  the  movements  of 
Blanche,  touched  Father  Borgia,  and,  pointing 
towards  her,  whispered,  ''Look,  Father!" 

''Ah!"  he  replied,  after  looking  a  moment, 
"that  is  no  apparition,  certainly;  it  is  the  same 
sister  we  saw  at  Havre,  who,  in  attempting  to 
snatch  a  lame  child  from  beneath  the  wheels  of 
a  dihgence,  was  herself  thrown  down  and  in  dan- 
ger of  being  crushed  to  death  by  the  crowd  of 
vehicles  which  were  passing  to  and  fro." 

"Had  she  fainted  when  you  rescued  her?" 

"No;  she  retained  consciousness  and  presence 
of  mind  throughout,  and  with  one  hand  grasp- 
ing the  crucifix,  and  the  other  arm  about  the 
beggar-child,  she  remained  perfectly  quiet;  a 
step  forwards  or  backwards — a  shriek,  or  the 
slightest  movement — and  she  would  have  been 
instantly  crushed  by  the  confused  and  frightened 
horses,  which  the  skill  of  their  drivers  could 
scarcely  manage.  Do  you  not  remember  how 
very  composedly  she  thanked  me,  after  I  had 
with  difficulty  extricated  her  from  her  perilous 
position,  for  saving  her  life?  and  how  not  an  emo- 
tion seemed  to  move  her  features  until  I  placed 
a  few  francs  into  the  hand  of  her  protege,  the 
beggar-child?  Her  smile  was  then  perfectly  ra- 
diant. I  have  never  forgotten  it.  But  how  she 
came  here  is  a  mystery  to  me,  and  I  must  after 
Cora  to  learn  her  history." 


TEE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY.  113 


As  Father  Borgia  approached  to  exchange  a 
few  kind  words  with  her,  the  religieuse  arose 
with  dignity,  and,  kneehng  at  his  feet,  claimed 
his  blessing,  which  he  gave  in  a  kind  and  impres- 
sive manner.  He  soon  ascertained  that  she  was 
the  same  sister  of  whom  they  had  just  been 
speaking,  and  after  hearing  her  little  narrative 
gladdened  her  inmost  heart  by  telling  her  that 
she  could  come  the  next  day  to  confession,  and 
probably  receive,  on  the  following  morning,  the 
most  holy  Eucharist. 

Adjoining  the  apartment  which  had  been  al- 
ways occupied  by  St.  Johns  when  at  home,  and 
was  looked  on  by  common  consent  as  his  pe- 
culiar property,  was  a  smaller  room,  long  and 
narrow,  with  one  large  window  at  the  upper  ex- 
tremity, in  which  he  kept  his  books,  and  where 
he  generally  retired  to  study  or  paint,  an  art  of 
which  he  was  remarkably  fond.  This  he  fitted 
up  the  next  day,  with  his  uncle's  consent,  as  an 
oratory,  and  placed  within  it  a  small  portable 
altar,  which  he  had  purchased  and  brought  with 
him  from  Rome.  It  had  been  duly  blessed,  and 
Father  Borgia  had  obtained  permission  to  cele- 
brate  the  holy  mysteries  on  it  whenever  circum- 
stances required  it.  The  crucifix  and  candela- 
bras  belonging  to  it  were  rich  and  costly,  and 
when  they  were  arranged  on  it,  with  clusters  of 
bright  flowers  between,  the  efifect  was  imposing 
and  solemn.      A  drapery  of  scarlet  cashmere 


114 


TEE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


soon  softened  the  glare  of  light  from  the  win- 
dow, and  a  few  fine,  large  paintings  on  sacred 
subjects  gave  a  holy  expression  to  its  bare  walls 
and  general  aspect.  Blanche  was  delighted,  and 
expressed  her  pleasure  at  the  arrangement  with 
frankness,  while  Corinne  was  serious  and  silent. 
They  with  their  father,  through  a  feehng  of  cour- 
tesy to  their  guests,  attended  the  first  religious 
ceremony  which  was  performed  in  it,  and  were 
much  impressed  by  the  solemnity  of  the  scene 
and  by  the  profound  devotion  with  which  their 
cousin  and  the  Sister  of  Charity  received  from 
the  hands  of  Father  Borgia  the  holy  Eucharist. 

At  the  request  of  Sister  Therese  the  little 
Irene  was  in  a  day  or  two  conditionally  baptized, 
as  from  all  that  could  be  gleaned  from  her  her 
parents  were  Protestants. 

The  mild  and  dignified  manners  of  Father 
Borgia,  his  unostentatious  piety  and  deep  learn- 
ing, won  in  a  few  days  Mr.  Leslie's  sincere  re- 
gard; while  the  consistent  and  steady  character 
of  his  nephew's  piety — his  chastened  gayety  and 
deep  devotion  to  the  faith  he  professed,  and  all  of 
its  observances — won  for  the  strange  religion, 
which  had  been  so  providentially  introduced  at 
Elverton  Hall,  the  respect  of  all.  In  amicable 
discussions  many  an  hour  glided  pleasantly  away, 
and  Mr.  Leslie  confessed  voluntarily  that  the 
Catholic  religion  was  not  only  ancient,  but  thor- 
oughly consistent  with  the  spirit  she  professed. 


THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


115 


CHAPTER  VII. 

FATHER  BORGIA— FIRST  IMPRESSIONS— HIGH 
CHURCH  AXD  LOW. 

1A]\I  surprised,"  said  ]\Ir.  Leslie  one  day  to  his 
nephew,  '''to  hear  your  friend  speak  our 
language  with  such  purity  of  accent.  His 
expressions  are  always  well  chosen  and  his  pro- 
nunciation correct." 

"He  is  the  most  perfect  linguist  I  ever  knew," 
repHed  Edgar,  "and  speaks  six  other  languages 
quite  as  well  as  he  does  our  own.  He  tells  me 
that  he  always  had  in  view  one  ruling  wish, 
which  was  to  spend  his  life  in  the  arduous  duties 
of  foreign  missions,  which  not  only  inspired  him 
with  greater  fervor  in  his  pursuit  of  learning,  but 
actually  accelerated  his  studies  rapidly." 
"Did  you  not  say  that  he  was  an  Italian?" 
"Yes,  and  of  high  birth.  The  blood  of  roy- 
alty itself  courses  through  his  veins;  but  this  he 
wishes  to  forget,  and  be  forgotten  by  the  world. 
He  has  permission  to  travel  six  or  eight  months, 
after  which  he  is  to  go  on  a  mission  beyond  the 
Rocky  ]\Iountains,  where  I  have  no  doubt  but 


116 


THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


that  his  holy  example  and  zealous  labors  will  ac- 
compHsh  a  vast  amount  of  good." 

''Such  an  apostolical  spirit  is  certainly  worthy 
of  a  religion  which  claims  an  apostolic  succes- 
sion," said  Mr.  LesHe.  ''Are  such  instances 
common?" 

"My  dear  uncle,  they  are  of  constant  occur- 
rence. It  is  a  common  thing,  now  as  in  days  of 
old,  for  persons  of  the  highest  standing,  talents 
and  immense  wealth  to  sacrifice  a//,  that  they 
may  more  unreservedly  serve  Almighty  God  and 
imitate  the  virtues  of  His  Son.  He  descended 
from  his  high  estate  to  set  us  an  example  of 
every  Christian  perfection;  they  descend  from 
theirs  that  they  may  more  worthily  and  truly 
imitate  Him." 

"I  shall  regret  the  necessity  which  will  deprive 
us  of  Father  Borgia's  society,"  said  Mr.  Leslie, 
after  a  long,  thoughtful  pause.  "But,  Edgar, 
you  have  never  yet  told  us  what  produced  your 
first  favorable  impressions  of  the  CathoUc  relig- 
ion— a  religion  so  diametrically  opposed  in  every 
way  to  those  tenets  which  from  your  earliest 
youth  you  were  taught." 

Just  then  a  servant  entered  and  handed  two 
letters  to  Sister  Therese.  They  were  those 
which  she  had  been  so  long  expecting,  but  which 
had  been  detained  on  the  road  in  consequence  of 
the  irregularity  of  the  mails  in  that  section  of  the 
country.    They  were  filled  with  the  kindest  and 


THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY, 


117 


most  motherly  expressions  of  affection,  and 
breathed  throughout  a  spirit  of  tender  piety, 
which,  while  it  consoled  her,  animated  her  still 
more  with  interior  strength  and  courage  in  her 
vocation.  She  was  advised  to  remain  a  short 
time  longer  with  her  hospitable  entertainers, 
fearing  that  her  strength  was  not  entirely  re- 
stored; which  was  a  fact,  for  her  system  had  re- 
ceived a  shock  which,  although  it  did  not  affect 
her  general  health,  had  debilitated  her  vital  en- 
ergies greatly. 

The  letter  contained  a  request  for  her  to  come 

on  to  the  mother-house  at  E  as  soon  as  she 

felt  able  to  undertake  so  long  a  journey,  and 
funds  sufficient  to  defray  her  travelling  expenses 
and  meet  any  ordinary  contingency.  As  soon 
as  the  letters  were  refolded  the  affectionate  fam- 
ily gathered  around  her  with  the  kindest  expres- 
sions and  hopes  that  she  would  be  able  to  pro- 
long her  stay  among  them  some  time  longer. 
When  they  heard  that  she  w^as  allowed  to  do  so, 
nothing  could  surpass  the  warm  welcome  w^hich, 
expressed  in  the  language  of  their  sincere  hearts, 
made  her  almost  imagine  herself  among  the 
friends  of  her  youth. 

''And  now,"  said  Corinne,  ''that  this  event 
which  has  given  us  all  such  sincere  gratification 
has  been  adjusted,  you  will  go  on,  Edgar,  to  tell 
us  how  it  happened  that  you  embraced  the  relig- 
ion of  Rome.    Did  I  not  know  the  strong  under- 


118  THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


current  and  firmness  of  principle  which  flows  be- 
neath your  love  for  all  that  is  grand  and  beauti- 
ful, I  should  undoubtedly  accuse  you  of  having 
been  led  away  by  the  imposing  rites  and  gor- 
geous cermonies  of  the  Catholic  religion." 

''They  have  charmed  many  a  wiser  head,"  said 
his  uncle,  smiling. 

''Who  followed  them,  as  did  the  Eastern 
princes  the  radiant  light  of  the  new-born  star, 
until  they  were  led  with  unerring  truth  to  Jesus 
Christ,"  replied  Edgar. 

"We  must  at  least  charitably  hope  so,"  said 
Blanche;  "but  you  are  keeping  us  in  suspense, 
still,  Edgar,  about  the  subject  in  question." 

"Well,"  said  he,  "to  begin,  my  first  Catholic 
impressions  were  produced  by  noticing,  while 
travelHng,  the  distinct  difference  which  existed  in 
the  prosperity,  pohtical  influences  and  social  or- 
der between  those  countries  and  provinces  which 
are  exclusively  Catholic  and  exclusively  Protes- 
tant in  their  rehgion.  In  the  first  I  found  the 
inhabitants,  from  the  nobles  down  to  their  peas- 
ants, actuated  by  the  same  spirit  of  peace,  unity 
and  order,  enjoying  the  same  holy  consolations, 
entitled  to  the  same  religious  privileges,  and  all 
acknowledging  the  same  spiritual  authority.  A 
benign  influence  seemed  to  pervade  all  classes, 
while  the  spirit  of  the  religion  they  professed 
reconciled  each  one  to  the  various  duties  of  his 
state.    Cheerfulness,  contentment  and  modesty 


THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


119 


are  the  characteristics  of  the  lower  orders,  while 
those  who  occupy  a  more  elevated  position  in 
society,  filled  with  that  charity  which  is  only 
found  on  the  broad  basis  of  the  Catholic  religion, 
regard  all  their  privileges  and  wants  with  pater- 
nal care." 

'Truly,"  said  Corinne,  smiling,  ''you  would 
have  one  believe  that  the  Catholic  religion  cre- 
ates a  Utopia  wherever  it  is  diffused — but  go  on." 

"The  Catholic  religion,  my  dear  cousin,"  he 
replied,  "is  the  only  one  which  possesses  those 
three  divine  qualities — faith,  unity  and  charity, 
which  are  so  essential  to  a  religion  which  claims 
the  eternal  God  as  its  origin,  and  which  alone  can 
bring  heaven  to  earth  under  its  holy  influences. 
All  that  is  holy,  all  that  is  benevolent  or  subhme, 
are  fostered  beneath  its  sacred  influences;  it  al- 
ters the  lion  soul  of  man  to  such  meek  patience 
and  humble  love  that  it  forgets  its  tyrant  nature 
and  reposes  in  peace  with  the  lamb.  But  to  con- 
tinue: I  was  obhged  oftener  than  once,  while 
wandering  with  observant  eyes  through  the 
Protestant  provinces,  states  and  cantons  of  Eu- 
rope, to  exclaim,  'This  religion  is  for  the  prince, 
and  not  the  beggar!'  for  no  penance,  no  fruits 
of  repentance,  no  abnegation  or  love  of  the  cross 
did  it  teach.  Except  to  believe  in  Christ,  and 
the  merits  of  His  satisfaction  for  the  salvation  of 
mankind,  there  seemed  nothing  else  for  them  to 
do  but  fold  their  hands  in  peace  and  enjoy  the 


120  TEE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


world  and  its  sensualities.  I  saw  no  voluntary 
poverty  among  them,  no  descending  from 
earthly  honors,  or  selling  all  their  possessions  for 
the  good  of  the  poor,  and  no  forsaking  all  else 
to  follow  Christ  and  imitate  the  divine  humility 
of  His  life  by  becoming  the  servants  of  the  poor 
and  afflicted,  as  in  CathoHc  countries.  No;  there 
was  none  of  this.  There  were  only  two  points 
on  which  all  seemed  united — they  believed  in 
Christ  and  the  accomplishment  of  his  mission  to 
earth,  as  they  did  any  other  well  authenticated 
historical  fact,  and  were  united  in  one  strong 
bond  of  supreme  hatred  towards  Catholics;  while 
among  them  were  wild  visionary  spirits,  who,  in 
accordance  with  the  latitude  which  the  rules  of 
their  creeds  allowed,  admitted  of  no  superior  au- 
thority, who,  continually  expounding  or  trans- 
lating the  Holy  Scriptures  to  suit  either  their 
ideal  perceptions,  their  sensual  wishes  or  de- 
praved natures,  made  continual  dissension  on 
points  of  doctrine.  Fanaticism,  and  frequently 
transcendentalism,  I  saw  abounding  as  the  nat- 
ural consequences  of  their  loose  and  unsanctified 
systems;  while  the  lower  orders,  generally  ignor- 
ant and  acknowledging  none  but  a  civil  author- 
ity, were  morose,  jealous  and  cunning.  Their 
pastors  they  seemed  to  consider  no  better  than 
themselves;  they  explained  the  Scriptures  and 
preached — so  could  they;  they  had  their  peculiar 
notions  of  religion — so  had  they  equal. privileges; 


THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


121 


their  heads,  who  had  seceded  from  the  ancient 
Church,  disagreed  obstinately  concerning  arti- 
cles of  faith — their  successors  were  still  doing  the 
same;  and,  never  satisfied  with  the  new  religion, 
or  tranquil  under  its  influences,  were  always  lop- 
ping off  or  adding  new  wonders  to  their  creeds; 
there  was  no  restraining  power,  no  voluntarily 
acknoAvledged  spiritual  or  apostolical  authority 
to  guide  them — f/iej  were  at  liberty  to  do  the 
same.  I  tell  you,  my  dear  uncle,  that  as  a  mere 
observer  of  men  these  things  made  a  powerful 
impression  on  me.  It  is  true  I  saw  the  splendid 
old  cathedrals  in  Catholic  countries,  and  wit- 
nessed all  the  gorgeous  circumstances  peculiar 
to  our  ceremonial.  I  wept  before  the  painted 
deHneations  of  the  death  of  our  Lord,  the  agonies 
of  martyrs,  and  the  acts  of  saints,  and  learned  to 
reverence  their  virtues  and  respect  the  mother 
of  Christ,  at  least  quite  as  much  as  some  of  my 
countrymen  reverence  the  mother  of  Washing- 
ton; and  though  these  things  appealed  power- 
fully to  my  feelings,  afl'ected  my  imagination  and 
charmed  my  exterior  senses,  f/iej'  alone  could 
never  have  effected  a  material  and  essential 
change  in  my  religious  principles.  But  in 
Protestant  churches  neither  senses  nor  soul  were 
gratified.  They  had  no  exterior  signs  or  sym- 
bols of  their  faith  in  Christ,  with  nothing  to  at- 
tract the  too  often  wandering  senses  to  a  focus 
of  devotion,  beyond  a  sometimes  eloquent  ser- 


122  TEE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY, 


mon  or  an  impressively  read  liturgy,  and  dis- 
courses or  lectures  invariably  mixed  up  with  mis- 
representations and  abuse  of  Catholics.  Thus, 
fine  singing,  cold  prayers  and  a  colder  religion 
failed  quite  as  much  to  win  me.  These  impres- 
sions I  repeat  as  they  occur  to  me,  and  though 
not  reduced  to  regular  order,  you  may  depend 
on  their  truth.  While  travelling  through  the 
Venetian  states  I  felt  a  slow  fever  creeping  on 
me;  my  mind  became  lethargic  and  insensible  to 
every  emotion,  and  by  the  time  I  had  arrived  at 

B  I  was  quite  unconscious,  and,  wandering 

away  from  my  hotel  about  dusk,  was  found  lying 
insensible  on  one  of  the  quays  by  a  member  of  a 
charitable  confraternity,  whose  laws  obHged  all 
who  belonged  to  it  to  be  ready  on  the  tolling  of 
their  bell,  at  a  moment's  warning,  to  leave  busi- 
ness, gain  or  pleasure  and  give  their  assistance 
freely  in  all  emergencies  of  public  or  private 
calamity,  in  case  of  sudden  death  or  illness  of 
strangers  on  the  streets,  the  falling  of  a  house, 
or  accidents  either  by  fire  or  flood.  It  is  com- 
posed entirely  of  citizens,  nobles,  laborers  and 
merchants,  who,  while  engaged  in  their  errands 
of  charity,  wear  a  full  brown  cloak  of  serge,  with 
a  large  hood  which  almost  entirely  conceals  their 
faces,  and  thus  the  peasant  and  the  duke,  per- 
chance assisting  hand  in  hand  with  some  good 
work,  give  their  services  secretly  to  Him  who 
will  in  a  coming  day  'reward  them  openly.' 


THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


123 


There  are  peculiar  strokes  of  the  beh  for  differ- 
ent quarters  of  the  city,  and  a  certain  number 
announcing  to  the  members  at  once  how  much 
assistance  is  required.  Thus  they  aU  know  as 
soon  as  an  accident  occurs  whither  to  go  and 
how  many  of  their  number  are  required,  and  are 
all,  noble  and  ignoble,  coadjutors  in  those 
blessed  works  of  charity,  which  in  Protestant 
countries  are  generally  consigned  to  the  heart- 
less minions  of  authority,  or  the  petty  dignitar- 
ies of  a  parish.  I  was  borne  by  four  of  their 
number  to  the  hospital,  of  which  Father  Borgia 
was  the  chaplain.  He  was  my  guardian;  he 
watched,  tended  and  administered  day  and  night 
to  my  wants,  until  I  recovered;  and  all  done,  not 
for  gain,  but  for  the  love  of  God;  for  how  did 
they,  those  brothers,  or  he,  know  but  that  I  was 
some  poor  outcast,  some  starving  prodigal? 

''During  the  slow  hours  of  convalescence  he 
was  my  companion  and  friend,  and  whije  he  in- 
dulged my  taste  for  intellectual  conversation, 
continually  directed  my  soul  beyond  all  to  its 
eternal  destiny.  His  arguments  completed  that 
which  practical  observation  had  so  favorably 
commenced;  I  will  not  repeat  them.  I  leave 
that  task  to  him,  hoping  that,  by  God's  grace, 
you  may  all  hear  them  with  the  same  fruits." 

''But  the  superstitious  practises  in  Catholic 
countries,  about  which  travellers  write  so  much; 
you  have  said  nothing  about  them,"  said  Cora. 


124 


THE  8ISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


''First  let  me  ask  you,  my  friends,  has  Protes- 
tantism ever  given  birth  to  such  a  society  as  that 
v\^hich  I  have  just  described,  or  such  an  order  as 
the  Sisters  of  Charity?"  inquired  St.  Johns. 

''Singularly  enough,  it  has  not,"  said  Mr.  Les- 
lie. 

"Not  singular,  my  dearest  uncle.  When  it 
separated  itself  from  that  ancient  Church,  v^ith 
which  the  spirit  of  God — and  God  is  charity — 
dwelleth  forever,  they  became  illiberal  and  con- 
tracted in  their  views  and  aimless  in  their  ob- 
jects. It  is  not  difficult  to  discover  by  certain 
signs  the  acts  of  a  religion  whose  founder  is  di- 
vine, and  one  whose  origin  is  merely  human, 
whose  leaders,  as  some  one,  inelegantly  enough 
but  truly  says,  were  vow-breakers  and  murder- 
ers," said  Edgar. 

"Charity!  charity,  Edgar!"  exclaimed  Mr. 
Leslie. 

"Dear  sir,  have  I  wounded  the  feelings  of 
any?"  said  he,  looking  round;  "if  so,  I  regret  it, 
but  cannot  retract  what  I  just  said,  for  the  facts 
which  I  stated  are  self-evident.  If  a  surgeon 
were  to  separate  my  arm  from  my  body,  it  would 
be  no  less  dead  than  those  religions  which,  like 
useless  members  separated  from  Christ's  living 
body,  the  Church,  become  lifeless  and  wither. 
It  is  no  charity  to  advocate  error  at  the  expense 
of  truth  ;  oh,  no  !  I  would  not,  could  not,  dare  do 
it.    But  if  I  could,  how  readily  would  I  bring  all 


THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY.  125 


the  world  under  the  sweet  subjection  of  our  holy 
religion!  Could  I  'open  my  arms  Uke  seas,  and 
grasp  in  all  the  shores/  with  what  rapture  would 
I  lay  their  people  at  the  foot  of  the  cross  and 
bid  them  enjoy  the  rich  consolations  which  there 
await  them.  They  walk  in  a  valley  of  shadows, 
oh!  that  they  could  see  the  light;  they  thirst  in 
the  desert  for  water,  and  hunger  for  bread;  oh! 
that  they  would  return  to  the  kingdom  of  their 
Father,  to  the  rich  inheritance  of  the  children  of 
God,  where  the  waters  of  life  give  perpetual 
beauty  to  its  shores,  and  where  the  food  of  an- 
gels, the  delicious  bread  from  heaven,  will  satisfy 
the  hunger  of  their  souls." 

''Such  is  true  charity,"  whispered  Sister  Ther- 
ese  to  Blanche,  who  sat  gazing,  with  moistened 
eyes,  on  the  illuminated  countenance  of  her  be- 
trothed. 

''My  dear  cousin,"  said  Corinne,  after  a  short 
pause,  "do  Catholics  really  worship  images  and 
pay  divine  honors  to  the  Virgin  Mary?" 

"The  Council  of  Trent,  if  you  will  admit  its 
authority,"  he  replied,  "defines  two  things  as  the 
belief  of  the  Catholic  Church  on  this  head:  First, 
That  images  of  Christ  and  the  Blessed  Virgin, 
and  of  the  other  saints,  are  to  be  exposed  and  re- 
tained particularly  in  churches.  Second,  That 
due  honor  and  respect  are  to  be  paid  to  them.* 
This  is  the  whole  of  the  Catholic  doctrine  on  this 
*Sess.  XXV.  de  Invocat.  SS.,  p.  289. 


126  TEE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY, 


point.  We  do  not  believe  that  any  virtue  re- 
sides in  those  sculptured  marbles,  or  painted 
effigies,  for  which  they  ought  to  be  honored. 
The  respect  we  show  them  by  placing  them  in 
our  churches  is  referred  to  their  prototypes;  we 
honor  them  because  they  have  been  honored  of 
God,  and  gone  up  to  live  forever  in  the  beatitude 
of  his  presence.  Thus  the  glory  of  His  divinity 
is  reflected  on  them,  and  from  them  to  us,  and 
from  us  back  again,  with  our  prayers,  to  its  first 
great  source.  We  know  there  is  no  divinity  in 
them,  for  these  images  can  neither  see,  hear,  nor 
help  us,  but  we  keep  them  in  our  churches  be- 
cause such  representations  are  admirably  calcu- 
lated to  bring  our  cold  and  stagnant  feelings  in 
closer  communion  with  the  persons  whose  illus- 
trious examples  we  love  and  cherish,  and  whose 
virtues  we  desire  to  imitate.  It  is  a  common 
thing  for  Protestants  to  brand  those  acts,  whose 
meaning  they  cannot  comprehend,  with  the  epi- 
thet of  idolatrous  or  superstitious!  What  can 
be  more  unjust?  They  regard  the  misrepresen- 
tations made  by  the  enemies  of  our  faith  as  infal- 
lible, and  pronounce  our  own  explanations  false. 
Thus  they  accuse  us  of  worshipping  the  blessed 
Mother  of  our  Lord,  when  we  know  it  would  be 
idolatry  to  do  so;  and  that  we  depend  more  on 
her  for  salvation  than  on  Christ,  when  we  our- 
selves draw  the  broadest  distinction  between 
the  character  of  our  petitions;  for  while  we  be- 


TEE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY.  127 


seech  God  to  /lave  mercy  on  us,  we  simply,  in  our 
prayers  to  the  Virgin,  say,  Pj-ay  for  us.  Our 
veneration  and  devotion  to  her  and  the  saints  is 
also  veneration  and  devotion  to  Almighty  God, 
and  refer  distinctly  to  Christ  as  our  only  media- 
tor. We  honor  them  as  His  servants,  sanctified 
not  through  any  merit  of  their  own,  but  through 
Jesus  Christ,  and  holy  because  admitted  to  the 
beatitude  of  heaven,  where  we  believe  they  pray 
for  us,  that  Almighty  God,  who  with  tender 
mercy  had  regarded  them,  while  struggling 
through  the  temptations  and  dangers  of  life, 
might  also  pity  us,  who  are  still  tearful  pilgrims 
of  this  lower  world.    Does  it  not  seem  rational?" 

"Quite  so,"  they  all  responded. 

"Believe  me,  then,  my  dear  relations,  when  I 
assure  you  that  all  those  usages  and  customs  of 
the  Church  which  have  been  stigmatized  as  idol- 
atrous and  superstitious  deserve  the  compliment 
with  as  little  justice  as  this.  All  are  emblems  of 
some  beautiful  point  of  faith,  or  the  exterior 
signs  of  the  soul's  firm  belief  in  those  imperish- 
able doctrines  revealed  by  Christ,  taught  and 
confirmed  by  the  Holy  Ghost,  in  the  persons  of 
the  apostles  and  their  successors,  down  to  the 
present  era  of  time.  Centuries,  ages,  have  rolled 
away  since  Peter  and  Paul  centred  this  faith  at 
Rome;  since  Polycarp,  the  disciple  of  St.  John 
the  Evangelist,  died,  a  martyr  to  its  truths;  since 
St.  Athanasius,  St.  Dionysius,  St.  Cyprian,  St. 


128  THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


Ambrose,  St.  Augustine,  St.  Dominick,  St.  Ber- 
nard, St.  Francis  and  other  illustrious  doctors 
and  saints  of  the  Church  declared  and  preached 
the  same  holy  doctrines  which  she  at  this  very 
day  proposes  for  the  belief  of  her  children;  since 
the  vain  heretics  of  the  first  and  succeeding  ages 
beat  Hke  the  waves  of  perdition  against  her  ever- 
lasting gates,  then  perished,  exhausted  by  their 
own  madness,  leaving  her  unshaken  and  un- 
harmed; and  still  she  stands,  immutable  as  the 
rock  of  ages,  and  oh!  how  beautiful,  how  spotless 
does  she  appear!  Like  the  eternity  from  which 
she  sprung,  ancient  but  forever  new,  and  living 
in  the  light  of  a  perpetual  day,  she  stands  while 
empires  have  crumbled  and  nations  have  per- 
ished around  her.  The  Church  triumphant,  en- 
riched with  the  glory  of  martyrs,  confessors,  vir- 
gins and  saints — the  suffering  elect,  detained  in 
purgatory,  and  the  Church  militant,  are  one  in 
the  confession  of  the  same  faith  and  by  the  com- 
munion of  saints.  Descending  in  splendid  or- 
der, it  proceeds  from  the  throne  of  the  living 
God,  Hke  a  ladder  of  angels,  to  this  lower  world, 
bringing  down  rich  graces  to  those  who  'follow 
the  Lamb,'  while  it  affords  a  bright,  safe  passage 
to  those  who  'have  fought  the  good  fight  and 
finished  their  course'  through  temptation  and 
tribulation,  whereby  they  may  ascend  rejoicing 
to  the  kingdom  of  their  Father." 

Blanche  wept^  Corinne  looked  grave  and 


THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY, 


129 


Mr.  Leslie  was  silent.  He  was  a  man  of  too 
keen  perceptions  and  too  deeply  read  both  in 
religious  and  political  history  to  advance  any  of 
those  hackneyed  and  untenable  arguments, 
whose  very  paucity  he  was  well  aware  was 
enough  to  confound  the  baseless  theories  they 
support. 

''Edgar,"  said  he,  after  a  long  pause,  ''I  have 
always  regarded  the  first  ages  of  the  ancient  faith 
as  pure,  and  overshadowed  by  the  glory  of  God; 
convince  me  that  it  is  still  so,  and  no  considera- 
tion could  detain  me  from  its  fold." 

''My  dear  uncle,"  said  St.  Johns,  rising  and 
taking  his  uncle's  hand,  ''it  ts  pure — it  is  the 
same.  Changes  have  taken  place  in  the  opin- 
ions of  men,  but  not  in  the  ancient  faith.  Those 
new  inventions  of  the  fifteenth  century,  which 
their  authors  dignified  with  the  name  of  relig- 
ions, first  diffused  abroad  that  spirit  of  calum- 
niation against  the  Church  which  led  men  to  be- 
lieve that  she  had  become  impure,  and  blackened 
with  error  and  idolatry.  The  ages  of  faith  may 
have  passed  away,  but  not  that  divine  spirit 
which  our  Lord  promised  and  gave  to  his  Church 
to  direct  her  in  all  truth  until  the  consummation 
of  time." 

^'But,  my  dear  cousin,"  said  Corinne,  hastily, 
"if  the  Spirit  of  God,  as  you  say,  was  bestowed, 
and  has  always  abided  with  this  Church,  was  not 


130 


THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


this  enough  to  have  protected  her  from  schism, 
scandal  and  heresy 

''Cora/'  said  St.  Johns,  "you  remind  one  of  the 
centurion  who  bade  Christ,  if  he  was  God,  to 
come  down  from  the  cross  and  save  himself;  and 
yet,  was  he  less  God  because  he  did  not?  Be- 
cause he  obeyed  not  the  arrogant  and  taunting 
command  of  a  mortal?" 

''Certainly  not,"  she  replied,  smiHng  at  his 
warmth. 

"Well;  and  in  not  a  less  degree  have  the  prom- 
ises of  God  to  His  Church  been  accomplished. 
The  Holy  Ghost  has  been  with  her  through  all 
ages,  and  still  is;  has  protected  and  guided  her 
in  all  truth,  and  still  does;  and  preserved  her 
from  the  beginning  in  the  unity  of  one  faith, 
while  those  branches  which  have  separated  from 
her  communion  bear  no  fruits  but  those  of  dis- 
cord and  division  among  themselves;  or,  sep- 
arated from  the  spirit  which  giveth  strength 
unto  eternal  life,  they  wither  and  perish.  Be- 
lieve me,  it  is  men  and  times  which  have  changed, 
and  not  the  religion  which  our  Lord  and  Saviour 
Jesus  Christ,  in  his  infinite  wisdom  and  love,  es- 
tablished. Assailed  by  false  teachers  and  men- 
dacious historians,  the  light  of  her  faith,  once 
shining  over  the  whole  earth,  has  been  gradually 
hidden  from  those  who,  separated  from  her  holy 
communion,  reproach  and  villify  her.    But,  like 


THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


131 


the  sun,  which,  when  the  noxious  vapors  of  earth 
shadow  his  glorv,  remains  unchangeably  bright, 
so  the  Church,  serene  amid  the  tempest,  firm  and 
immovable,  resting  in  light  beneath  the  brooding 
wings  of  the  Spirit  of  God,  is  still  unchanged  and 
unharmed,  while  her  persecutors  exclaim  with  as 
much  reason  as  might  men  who  are  blind,  'Lo! 
there  is  no  light  in  heaven  or  earth;  all  is  dark 
and  dangerous,  because  we  ourselves  cannot  per- 
ceive the  glories  of  day  I'  The  Catholic  religion 
teaches  precisely  the  same  faith,  the  same  dog- 
mas, the  same  morals,  which  she  taught  eighteen 
hundred  years  ago.  Its  truth  is  still  attested  by 
the  conversion  of  whole  nations  and  tribes  to  her 
fold,  by  miracles,  by  the  holiness  of  saints  and 
martyrs,  who  still  go  up  covered  with  the  glori- 
ous spoils  of  their  warfare,  from  her  bosom  to  the 
beatification  of  the  celestial  vision — is  still  distin- 
guished by  the  continual  persecution  which  is 
waged  against  her  in  that  spirit  which  alone  can 
proceed  from  the  very  gates  of  hell;  by  the  never- 
failing  increase  of  her  children,  who,  alone  of  all 
the  world,  follow  the  footsteps  of  their  Lord  in 
the  steep  and  narrow  way  of  the  cross.  I  feel 
like  a  pilgrim  who,  after  a  long  exile,  has  just  re- 
turned to  his  father's  house  to  be  no  more  ex- 
posed to  the  precarious  vicissitudes  of  life  for- 
ever. I  look  within  myself,  and  can  scarcely 
identify  the  Catholic  St.  Johns  with  the  heartless 
bigot  he  was  a  few  months  ago;  so  changed  do  I 


132  TEE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY, 


feel.  I  understand  the  true  meaning  of  Faith 
and  Repentance,  and  in  the  divinely-instituted 
sacraments  of  the  Church  my  soul  enjoys  the 
most  perfect  consolation.  The  beloved  disciple 
declared  that  if  all  our  Lord  preached  and  per- 
formed on  earth  were  written,  the  volumes  would 
fill  the  world;  how  can  I  then  express  in  a  few 
cold  words  the  beauty,  the  holiness,  the  purity, 
of  this  'City  of  the  eternal  God?'  But  I  feel  it 
all;  my  heart  is  filled  to  excess  with  unexpressed 
eloquence,  and  all  that  I  can  do  is  to  beg  you,  my 
best  friends,  by  the  eternal  hopes  you  have  of  sal- 
vation, to  enter  at  once  within  those  gates,  which 
the  King  of  glory  has  opened  for  those  who  fol- 
low Him  in  the  perfection  of  his  saints." 

A  party  of  gay  visitors,  who  had  just  arrived, 
entered,  and  gave  at  once  a  decided  check  to 
their  interesting  conversation.  The  frivolous 
chit-chat  of  the  world  showed  by  comparison  in 
most  unfavorable  contrast  to  it,  a  contrast  which 
the  little  circle  at  Elverton  Hall  felt  individually 
and  strongly.  They,  however,  exerted  them- 
selves to  entertain  their  guests,  who,  not  under- 
standing the  effort,  could  not  appreciate  it,  and 
declared  as  soon  as  they  were  well  out  of  hearing, 
"That  the  LesHes  had  positively  been  so  stupid 
they  gave  them  the  horrors!" 

"No  wonder,"  said  one,  "for  report  says  that 
Mr.  St.  Johns,  who,  you  know,  is  engaged  to 
Blanche,  has  joined  the  Catholics,  and  they  say 


THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


133 


that  Mr.  Leslie  will  not  consent  to  the  match  un- 
til he  leaves  them  and  becomes  a  Protestant 
again." 

'That  he  will  never  do,"  replied  another;  ''for 
the  priest  who  made  him  a  CathoHc  followed 
him  to  this  country  to  see  that  he  keeps  his  oaths 
to  him,  and  not  only  that,  there  is  a  nun  at  the 
Hall;  and  I  hear  the  priest  and  herself  are  in  high 
favor  with  the  family;  so,  depend  on  it,  sea  and 
land  will  be  compassed  to  make  proselytes  of  the 
Leslies." 

"And  I  will  not  be  surprised,"  added  another, 
"if  they  succeed.  You  know  Mr.  LesHe  was  al- 
ways an  odd  kind  of  a  man;  indeed,  to  speak  con- 
fidentially, our  minister  told  my  husband,  who, 
you  know,  is  a  vestryman,  that  he  was  very  vis- 
ionary on  religious  subjects." 

"Our  minister  lives  in  a  glass  house,  now, 
then,"  replied  the  lady,  "and  cannot  throw  stones 
at  Mr.  Leslie  or  anybody  else.  He  preaches 
strange  doctrines,  and  it  is  said  the  bishop  re- 
proved him  sharply  more  than  once." 

"Pshaw!  he  is  only  a  Puseyite,"  said  her  com- 
panion, "and  my  husband  says  Pusey  is  the  great- 
est and  best  man  living;  so  Mr.  Forrester  must 
be  right  in  advocating  his  doctrines." 

''il/y  husband  says  that  Dr.  Pusey  is  as  bad  as 
a  Catholic  priest,  and  what  could  be  worse?"  re- 
torted her  friend,  "and  that  he  has  been  sus- 
pended by  the  church  authorities  in  England  for 


134  TEE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


preaching  Catholic  doctrines,  which  I  think  is 
shocking  in  an  Episcopal  minister." 

The  ladies  ended  by  getting  into  a  warm  dis- 
pute on  the  subject,  which  finally  eventuated  in 
a  cessation  of  all  friendly  intercourse  between 
them,  proving  the  truth  of  the  old  saying,  "Who 
can  be  right  when  the  doctors  themselves  disa- 
gree?" 


TEE  SISTER  OF  CEARITY. 


135 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

"Do  not  think  that  I  am  come  to  destroy  the  law  or  the  ' 
prophets;  I  am  not  come  to  destroy,  but  to  fulfil." 

—Matt.  V.  17. 

THE  world  has  run  mad,  or  I,  that's  certain," 
said  Mrs.  Murray  to  herself  one  day  as  she 
sat  in  state,  whipping  tip  a  raspberry  float 
for  dinner. 

''I  hope  not,  my  dear  old  friend!"  exclaimed 
Corinne,  who,  with  Blanche,  had  entered  the 
housekeeper's  room,  as  they  very  often  did,  to 
spend  an  hour  with  her;  "but  tell  us  why  you 
think  the  world  has  gone  mad?" 

''Because  everything  is  changed  at  the  old 
Hall  ever  since  them  outlandish  people  have  been 
here.  I  wish  the  same  wind  that  blew  'em  here 
would  take  'em  off  again,"  she  replied,  with  dig- 
nity. 

"Our  guests!"  exclaimed  Blanche;  "oh,  dear 
Mrs.  Murray,  such  inhospitable  wishes  from 
you?" 

"Yes,"  she  said,  giving  an  extra  flourish  to  her 
egg- whip,  "for  everything  will  go  wrong  while 
such  unearthly  doings  are  going  on." 

"You  amaze  me!"  said  Cora.  "Of  what  do- 
ings are  you  talking?" 


136  THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


''Why,  you  see,  Miss  Cora,  first  of  all,  here 
comes  that  pale  lady  from  the  wreck;  the  next 
night  the  whole  place  is  put  in  an  uproar  by  the 
strangest  music  on  the  air — I  heard  it  myself, 
and  I  never  heard  the  like  beforej  then  here 
comes  the  gentleman  from  furrin  parts  with  Mr. 
Edgar,  and  sets  up  idols  under  the  old  roof  to  be 
worshipped,  with  the  strangest  fixin's  and  do- 
ings, like  as  if  he  w^as  working  spells;  and  as  to 
sleeping!  I  declare  his  bed  has  never  been  tum- 
bled since  here  he's  been;  and  if  he  lays  down  at 
all,  it  must  be  on  that  old  armed  settee  in  his 
room,  that  has  a  hard  bottom  and  no  cushions; 
and  the  other  night,  miss,  when  I  had  the  tooth- 
ache and  had  to  get  up  to  get  something  for  it, 
I  come  by  his  room,  and,  as  sure  as  you're  born, 
I  heard  the  sound  of  a  whip  and  some  one  say- 
ing, 'Have  mercy  on  me!  have  mercy  on  me!'  It 
must  have  been  after  one  o'clock;  but  it  give  me 
such  a  fright  that  the  toothache  stopped  right 
naturally  of  itself,  and  I  got  back  to  bed  quick, 
I  tell  you." 

'The  discipline  which  we  have  heard  of,"  whis- 
pered Blanche. 

"I  suppose  so,"  she  replied,  in  the  same  under- 
tone. ''But,  my  dear  Mrs.  Murray,  I  am  truly 
sorry  you  are  so  prejudiced  against  our  guests, 
and  cannot  help  thinking  that  you  were  mistaken 
about  the  music,  and  other  things." 

"No,  I  was  not,  Miss  Cora;  1  have  not  lived  to 


TEE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


137 


this  age  to  be  scared  at  nothing.  I  have  been 
a  Baptist  now  thirty  years.  The  ice  was  broke 
in  the  river  for  me  to  be  baptized,  and  although 
I  never  was  right  clear  of  the  sore  throat  and 
colds  and  the  like,  when  my  sins  were  washed 
away  my  diseases  went  with  'em.  Since  then  I 
have  always  read  my  Bible  and  kept  the  devil  at 
bay  until  now;  but  he's  taken  up  his  bodily  abode 
down  yonder  in  the  Tlollow,'  where  the  music 
comes  from,  and  has  high  doings,  I  warrant. 
Why,  miss,  the  overseer  told  me  to-day  that  he 
saw  the  furrin  gentleman  go  that  way  twice,  and 
followed  him  a  little  way  down,  then  in  a  minute 
or  so  heard  the  music  and  a  loud  voice  singing  in 
an  unknown  tongue!  And  as  to  Mr.  Edgar, 
he's  kind,  to  be  sure,  like  old  times,  but  he  wor- 
ships the  idols  the  other  sets  up;  and  Bob  told 
me  yesterday,  after  I  made  with  my  own  hands 
a  chicken  fricasee — you  know  he  always  liked 
'em — the  deuce  a  bit  did  he  eat  of  it,  or  any  other 
meat,  but  dined  off  an  Irish  potato  and  an  egg, 
the  very  same  that  the  other  eat ;  and  here  comes 
your  father  to-day  and  says,  says  he,  'Mrs.  Mur- 
ray, we  will  have  no  meat  hereafter  on  the  tables 
on  Fridays;  nothing  need  be  prepared  but  fish 
and  vegetables,'  "  said  the  old  lady,  whipping  her 
eggs  most  energetically. 

''Cousin  Edgar  has  become  a  Catholic,  you 
know,  Mrs.  Murray,  and  our  friends  are  also 
Catholics.    Their  reUgious  customs  and  habits 


138  TEE  SISTER  OF  CEARITY. 


are  entirely  different  from  our  own;  for  instance, 
they  fast  a  great  deal  and  never  eat  meat  on  Fri- 
days," replied  Cora. 

''And  why,  pray?"  said  the  housekeeper,  look- 
ing as  wise  as  Solon.  ''Are  not  all  days  alike, 
except  the  blessed  Sabbath?  and  ain't  everything 
the  Lord  made  fit  to  eat  at  any  time?  I'm  think- 
ing, I  am,  that  they're  kin  to  the  Jews." 

"They  abstain  from  meat  and  other  luxuries 
on  Fridays  in  commemoration  of  the  Passion  of 
our  Lord,  therefore  they  cannot  be  Jews,"  said 
Cora,  smiling;  "and  as  to  the  Sabbath,  which 
even  you  revere,  my  good  friend,  it  is  not  the 
day  which  God  commanded  the  Jews  to  keep 
holy,  and  which,  occurring  on  Saturday,  they 
still  revere  as  they  did  in  the  days  of  Moses." 

''Well,  then,  our  Saviour  changed  the  day, 
and  if  He  made  the  change  it  is  just  as  well,"  said 
Mrs.  Murray. 

"No,  he  did  not,"  said  Blanche;  "the  Catholic 
Christians  of  the  first  ages  of  Christianity  did  it, 
that  the  resurrection  of  Christ  might  be  honored 
through  all  ages,  especially  on  that  day,  and  for 
other  important  reasons." 

"I  don't  believe  a  word  of  it!"  exclaimed  Mrs. 
Murray,  "begging  your  pardon,  miss;  but  if  ev- 
erybody nowadays  is  to  believe  everything  the 
idolaters  say,  one  had  better  be  dead.  There's 
no  wonder  people  that  has  no  religion  runs  after 
strange  gods;  but  the  religion  of  our  Lord — he 


THE  SISTER   OF  CHARITY. 


139 


was  a  Baptist,  you  know — is  good  enough  for  a 
poor  sinner  like  me.  This  float  is  ready;  here. 
Amy,  get  the  cream  and  take  it  up/' 

She  was  sorely  puzzled,  and  as  she  walked  the 
stiff  folds  of  her  dress  rustled  with  portentous 
sounds,  and  the  high  crown  of  her  linen  cap 
seemed  towering  up  to  the  very  ceiling,  while  her 
large,  round  spectacles,  slipping  down  to  the  tip 
of  her  nose,  revealed  the  indignant  expression 
of  her  eyes. 

"I  hope  you  will  live  fifty  years  longer,'"  said 
Blanche,  kindly,  "Catholics  notwithstanding.'' 

'"So  do  I,  from  my  heart,"  said  Cora,  "and  be- 
come one  in  the  bargain;  but  no,'"  she  exclaimed, 
seeing  the  old  lady  bridle  up  and  turn  red,  "not, 
at  least,  until  you  think  their  way  is  the  right 
one." 

"\Miich  will  be  never!""  she  said,  indignantly. 

"AA'ell,  let  us  always  hope  for  the  best,"  per- 
sisted Cora;  "and  now  kiss  your  children,  you 
best  of  old  friends,  and  let  us  go,  for  I  hear  the 
dinner-bell." 

^Irs.  ]\Iurray  was  soothed,  and  praying  that 
the  Lord  would  preserve  them  from  idolatry, 
kissed  them  with  all  the  pride  and  affection  of  a 
tender  mother. 

Wdien  the  dessert  was  removed  and  the  ser- 
vants had  withdrawn  Cora  gave  an  amusing  de- 
scription of  ]\Irs.  ]Murray"s  panic  fomitting.  of 
course,  her  nocturnal  adventure),  at  which  they 


140  THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY, 


were  all  much  diverted.  ''And  now,  my  dear 
father,"  she  said,  ''everybody  says  the  place  is 
haunted  by  a  musical  spirit,  which  amuses  itself 
every  evening  in  the  old  Hollow,  with  playing 
wild,  unearthly  strains,  and  singing  in  an  un- 
known tongue." 

"I  have  heard  it  myself,"  said  Mr.  Leslie,  ex- 
changing a  meaning  look  with  Father  Bor- 
gia. 

"Then  it  can  be  accounted  for  rationally,"  said 
Cora,  with  decision;  "for  I  know  you  too  well  to 
believe  you  would  ever  practise  on  the  fears  of 
the  credulous  for  the  sake  of  enjoying  a  practical 
joke." 

"You  are  right,  my  love;  I  would  not.  The 
mystery  shall  be  solved  to  your  entire  satisfac- 
tion to-morrow  morning,  if  you  can  wait  so 
long,"  said  Mr.  LesHe. 

"Certainly,"  said  Cora.  "That  little  insinua- 
tion of  yours  has  put  me  on  my  dignity,  and  I 
promise  you  I'll  wait  a  year  if  you  say  so,  merely 
to  prove  that  Mother  Eve's  daughters  have  been 
slandered." 

"No,  until  to-morrow  will  answer,"  he  replied; 
"meanwhile,  if  you  are  not  all  engaged,  we  will 
take  a  ride  on  horseback  this  delightful  evening 
as  far,  Blanche,  as  your  favorite  'Pine  Forest.'  " 

"DeHghtful!"  said  Blanche;  "but  do  you  and 
Cora  go  on  horseback,  and  Sister  Therese,  little 
Irene  and  myself  will  have  the  barouche  and  take 


THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY.  141 


a  drive  on  the  beach.  Father  Borgia  can  have 
your  horse,  Edgar;  you  know  it  is  so  gentle!" 

Sister  Therese  thanked  her  gratefully  for  her 
kind  arrangement,  but  decHned,  saying  that  she 
had  promised  to  spend  an  hour  with  Amy's 
mother,  who  had  been  bedridden  for  two  or  three 
years. 

''And  I,"  said  Father  Borgia,  "will  accompany 
you  on  foot  as  far  as  the  beach,  where,  with  the 
lofty,  bright  heavens  above  me,  like  the  dome  of 
some  mighty  cathedral,  and  the  waves  rolling 
their  thunders  like  music  at  my  feet,  I  will  re- 
main, saying  my  office  until  your  return.  There 
I  shall  more  devoutly  feel  my  own  nothingness 
and  the  unbounded  power  of  God." 

From  some  unaccountable  cause  Edgar  de- 
clined going  also,  and  Blanche,  half  affronted, 
entered  the  barouche  with  no  other  companion 
than  Irene  and  the  man  who  drove  them.  They 
did  not  return  until  sunset,  and  found  Father 
Borgia  sauntering  slowly  homeward,  with  his 
open  breviary  in  his  hand,  saying  aloud  some  of 
the  sublime  passages  from  the  collection  of 
Psalms  which  formed  a  part  of  the  canonical 
office.  Blanche  tried  to  prevail  on  him  to  ride 
home,  but  he  excused  himself  by  telling  her 
pleasantly  that  his  task  was  not  yet  finished,  and, 
waving  his  hand,  they  drove  on  and  left  him  to 
his  devotions  and  holy  meditations.  After  tea 
they  all  adjourned  to  the  eastern  piazza.  The 


142 


THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


evening  was  perfectly  delicious;  a  soft,  balmy  air 
came  floating  up  from  the  ocean,  and  the  moon, 
like  a  great  pearl  on  the  brow  of  night,  shed  a 
silvery  mist  over  the  waters  and  earth.  No 
sounds  except  the  distant  murmur  of  the  waves, 
the  loud  whisperings  of  the  wind  among  the 
trees  and  flowers,  and  the  occasional  song  of 
some  startled  bird  which  brooded  over  her 
young,  were  heard.  The  picturesque  lights  and 
shadows  caused  by  the  flood  of  radiance  which 
descended  so  softly  from  heaven  to  earth  in- 
spired each  heart  with  the  most  profound  and 
tranquil  admiration;  and  after  conversing  a  short 
time  on  those  light  and  elegant  topics,  poetry 
and  science,  which  the  witchery  of  the  scene 
seemed  to  invoke,  they  gradually  fell  into  a  more 
serious  train  of  thought,  and  remained  for  a 
short  time  silent. 

"I  think,"  at  last  said  Mr.  Leslie,  "it  is  worthy 
of  remark  that,  while  Catholicity  is  enriched 
with  innumerable  institutions  of  charity,  which 
in  their  dififerent  degrees  suit  the  wants  and 
soothe  the  sufferings  of  all.  Protestantism,  in 
contracting  its  charities  to  one  or  two  purposes 
only,  is  almost  barren.  Both  profess  the  same 
divine  origin,  and  yet  but  one  follows,  distinctly 
and  generously,  the  literal  precepts  of  the  gos- 
pel." 

"God  is  charity,"  replied  Father  Borgia;  "thus 
it  is  one  of  the  distinctive  marks  of  his  Church. 


TEE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


143 


Separate  it  from  religion,  and  religion  exists  no 
longer;  cherish  not  its  salutary  practices,  and 
what  a  scene  of  misery  and  crime  will  the  world 
exhibit ;  and  need  I  say  to  whom,  above  all  others, 
the  want-stricken,  the  poor,  the  friendless,  the 
hungry,  the  naked  and  oppressed  are  indebted? 
No;  the  illustrious  examples  of  charity  afforded 
to  every  age,  and  increasing  in  breadth  and  splen- 
dor with  the  lapse  of  time,  by  the  Catholic 
Church,  make  the  fact  too  apparent.  He  whose 
birth  was  announced  by  the  angel  envoys  of  God 
with  songs  of  rejoicing  to  the,  lowly  Chaldean 
shepherds,  to  the  most  humble  of  Judea's  sons, 
as  they  rested  wearily  beside  their  sleeping 
flocks,  and  messages  of  peace  to  earth  and  good- 
will towards  man,  preached  unto  all  the  doctrines 
which  include  those  two  divine  precepts  of  'lov- 
ing God  supremely,'  and  'our  neighbor  as  our- 
selves.' Stimulated  by  this  sacred  moraUty, 
the  faithful  sons  and  daughters  of  the  Church 
go  forth  courageously  to  the  constant  and  prac- 
tical performance  of  those  good  works  and  he- 
roic actions  by  which  alone  they  can  imitate 
Him  whom  they  follow  up  Calvary's  narrow 
steep,  while  at  the  same  time  it  teaches  them  pa- 
tience, meekness,  long-suffering,  humiUty,  and 
forbearance,  in  the  various  relations  which  they 
hold  with  God  and  their  fellow-men.  Himself 
Charity,  therefore  does  the  rehgion  which  our 
Divine  Teacher  in  infinite  wisdom  and  mercy  es- 


144 


THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


tablished,  possess  it  in  a  pre-eminent  degree,  and 
diffuse  its  spirit,  not  only  theoretically,  but  in  the 
fullest  and  most  practical  sense  of  the  word, 
throughout  those  portions  of  the  world  which 
profess  that  unity  of  beHef  which  alone  acknowl- 
edges one  faith,  one  Lord,  and  one  baptism. 
To  enumerate  the  splendid  examples  of  charity 
which  cast  such  a  halo  over  the  whole  history  of 
the  Church;  to  describe  its  soul-purifying  flow 
through  hoary  centuries  and  long  ages,  from  the 
various  orders  estabHshed  by  the  holy  saints  of 
old,  gradually  down  to  the  widow  who  gives  a 
mite,  her  all,  would  furnish  a  theme  of  inexhaus- 
tible interest." 

''While  I  admit,  my  dear  sir,"  said  Mr.  Leslie, 
"that  Catholicity  is  pre-eminent  in  practices  of 
charity;  and  this  is  no  great  concession,  because 
its  most  violent  adversaries  publicly  give  their 
testimony  to  that  effect;  I  cannot  help  thinking 
that  too  much  stress  is  laid  on  the  worksy  which 
makes  it  appear  that  you  think  the  satisfaction 
made  by  Christ  for  our  sins  is  in  somewise  in- 
complete or  imperfect — your  penitential  works, 
for  instance,  which  are,  I  believe,  often  practised 
beneath  the  guise  of  charity,  with  great  austeri- 
ties and  humiliations." 

"I  repeat  again,"  said  Father  Borgia,  "that 
God  is  Charity!  Whosoever  loveth  Him  will 
practise  all  those  holy  precepts  which  his  law  en- 
joins.   We  are  commanded  to  feed  the  hungry, 


THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


145 


clothe  the  naked,  visit  the  sick  and  those  who 
are  in  prison,  and  taught  by  the  divine  oracle 
that  by  so  doing  we  minister  to  Christ  himself, 
who  tells  us  that  a  cup  of  cold  water — surely  the 
cheapest  of  all  charities — given  in  His  name  to 
one  of  his  beloved  servants,  will  be  remembered 
by  Him  when  He  comes  with  his  Father  in  the 
clouds  of  heaven  to  judge  the  world.  And 
though  we  believe  that  no  creature  whatsoever 
can  make  condign  satisfaction  either  for  the 
guilt  of  sin  or  the  eternal  pain  due  to  it,  this  sat- 
isfaction being  due  to  Christ  our  Saviour  only, 
yet  penitent  sinners  redeemed  by  Christ  may,  as 
members  of  Christ,  in  some  measure  satisfy  by 
fasting,  alms-deeds,  and  other  works  of  piety, 
for  the  temporal  pain  which  by  the  order  of  di- 
vine justice  sometimes  remains  due  after  the 
guilt  of  sin  and  its  eternal  penalties  are  remitted. 
These  penitential  works  are,  notwithstanding, 
satisfactory  no  otherwise  than  as  joined  to  that 
satisfaction  which  Jesus  made  on  the  cross,  in 
virtue  of  which  all  good  works  find  a  grateful  ac- 
ceptance in  the  sight  of  God.  Should  one  of 
your  children  offend  you  by  some  outrage 
against  duty,  would  you  not  think  it  passing 
strange  if,  after  you  had  freely  pardoned  them, 
they  did  not  endeavor  by  more  perfect  acts  of 
obedience,  gratitude  and  love,  to  obliterate  en- 
tirely  from  your  remembrance  the  least  shadow 
of  their  fault?    Your  love  and  forgiveness  was 


146 


THE  8I8TER  OF  CHARITY. 


perfectly  satisfactory  to  them,  and  yet  the  fruits 
of  their  repentance,  shown  by  acts  of  humihty 
and  contrition,  would  be  due  to  you." 

''I  must  confess  that  all  this  sounds  rational, 
and  seems  consistent  with  the  practices  of  the 
first  ages  of  Christianity.  But,  perhaps,"  con- 
tinued Mr.  Leslie,  pleasantly,  ''in  my  noncon- 
formity to  the  doctrines  of  certain  creeds,  I  am 
too  readily  disposed  to  yield  assent  to  that,  which 
from  its  venerable  age  demands  my  respect." 

* 'Thank  God!"  exclaimed  Father  Borgia, 
"  that  your  error  has  not  been  greater,  that  your 
mind,  heretofore  acknowledging  or  yielding  as- 
sent to  that  only  to  which  all  Christendom  con- 
sents is  divine,  is  more  fully  prepared  to  receive 
the  truth  as  it  is  in  Christ  Jesus." 

"Father,"  said  Corinne,  who  had  listened  with 
deep  interest  to  the  conversation,  ''}ike  all  other 
Protestants — or  heretics  " 

''Leaving  papists  out  of  the  question,"  said 
St.  Johns,  laughing;  "one  epithet  you  must  own 
is  quite  as  respectable  as  the  other,  Cora." 

"Or  heretics,"  she  continued,  giving  her 
cousin  a  smart  rap  with  her  fan — "I  have  been 
taught  to  regard  the  Bible  as  the  true  rule." 

"A  rule  which  has  been  multiplied  with  a  ven- 
geance," again  interrupted  her  cousin. 

Father  Borgia  and  Mr.  Leslie  smiled,  but  Cora 
very  gravely  went  on — 

"And  looking  on  it  in  this  light,  shall  feel 


THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY.  147 


more  reconciled  to  the  pretensions  of  the  Cath- 
olic Church  to  a  divine  origin,  if  you  can  furnish 
me  with  proofs  from  Scripture  on  which  they 
may  be  founded." 

''Assuredly,"  said  Father  Borgia,  with  alacrity; 
''for  it  is  from  the  Holy  Scriptures  that  we  draw 
the  most  undeniable  proofs  of  the  divine  origin 
of  the  Church.  The  holy  men  of  Israel  sung  of 
it  in  their  inspired  canticles,  and  to  the  prophets 
of  old  it  was  pre-figured  in  their  ecstatic  visions 
as  an  'eternal  kingdom,'  an  'enduring  empire.' 
But  whether  written  under  the  mysterious  spirit 
of  the  old  law,  which  prophesied  in  types,  figures 
and  shadows  of  the  'Lamb  of  God,'  and  of  that 
'covenant  of  God  to  man,'  which  through  him 
'shall  stand  for  all  generations,'*  or  recorded  un- 
der the  benign  influence  of  the  new  revelation  of 
Jesus  Christ  as  a  Saviour  to  the  world — they  all 
breathe  the  same  unity  of  meaning,  and  give  tes- 
timony and  full  confirmation  of  the  divine  origin 
of  the  Church.  The  prophet  Isaiah  declares  that 
'God  shall  be  her  everlasting  light, 'f  and  that 
'whosoever  shall  gather  against  her  shall  fall, 
and  the  nation  that  will  not  serve  her  shall  per- 
ish,and  that  'God's  covenant  with  her  is  con- 
firmed by  a  solemn  oath  never  to  be  altered,  Hke 
that  of  Noah.'l  Daniel  thus  foretells  her  indi- 
visibility: In  the  days  of  those  kingdoms  the 

*Jeremiah  xxxiii.  20,  21.  tisaiah  ix.  18,  19. 

Ilsaiah  ix.  12,  15,  17,  §Isaiah  liv.  9. 


148  THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


God  of  heaven  will  set  up  a  kingdom  which  shall 
never  be  destroyed,  and  his  kingdom  will  not  be 
delivered  to  another  people;  and  it  shall  break 
in  pieces  and  consume  all  those  kingdoms,  and 
itself  shall  stand  forever,"^  while  Isaiah  again  in 
more  expressive  terms,  refers  to  the  Church  as  a 
flock,  and  the  Messiah  as  its  shepherd,  in  these 
remarkable  words:  'he  shall  feed  his  flock  like  a 
shepherd,  he  shall  gather  together  the  lambs 
with  his  arms,  and  take  them  up  in  his  bosom/f 
As  if  these  were  not  sufficiently  explicit,  the 
archangel  Gabriel,  the  legate  of  the  Most  High 
God,  all  radiant  with  the  splendors  of  heaven, 
and  embalming  the  air  with  its  sweet  odors, 
when  he  descended  to  earth  announced  to  the 
blessed  maid  of  Nazareth  that  'the  Lord  God 
would  give  unto  the  son  she  was  to  bear  the 
throne  of  David  his  father,  and  he  would  reign  in 
the  house  of  Jacob  his  father,  and  of  his  king- 
dom there  should  be  no  end.  J  Following  him 
came  the  angels  who  announced  the  birth  of  this 
illustrious  king  of  the  royal  line  of  David — the 
son  of  God,  and  bade  the  shepherds  go  to  Beth- 
lehem and  worship  the  'new-born  babe,'  where 
they  found  the  princes  of  the  East  offering  their 
regal  gifts  and  acknowledging  him  with  exceed- 
ing joy  as  the  'Ruler  of  Israel'  foretold  by  the 
prophet.  After  these  we  behold  another;  one 
who  comes  from  the  desert  with  solemn  aspect, 
♦Daniel  ii.  44.        tisaiah  xl.  11.        ILuke  i.  32,  33- 


TEE  SISTER  OF  CEARITY. 


149 


and  whose  garments,  dripping  with  the  dews  of 
heaven,  are  girt  about  with  a  leathern  girdle,  de- 
claring aloud  that  this  kingdom  so  long  foretold 
was  at  hand,  the  King  whereof  would  'baptize 
them  with  the  Holy  Ghost  and  with  fire.'  Thus 
spoke  he — the  Baptist — the  last  of  that  solemn 
prophet  train — the  august  precursor  of  Christ — 
of  Him  who  came  to  establish  the  kingdom  for 
Svhich  he  was  born' — who,  while  they  stood  to- 
gether in  the  rippHng  waves  of  Jordan's  flood, 
and  while  he  administered  the  sacred  rite  to 
Jesus,  and  saw  the  baptismal  waters  streaming 
over  his  sacred  form,  'beheld  the  heavens  open 
and  the  Holy  Ghost  descending  as  a  dove,  and  a 
voice  from  on  high  declaring,  'This  is  my  beloved 
Son,  in  whom  I  am  well  pleased.'  Was  not  this 
glorious  confirmation  of  his  divine  right  to  the 
title  of  a  kingdom  which  was  to  endure  forever? 
Did  it  not  stamp  with  splendid  certainty  that  he 
was  the  Messias  so  long  expected — the  victim 
who  was  foretold  to  be  slain  for  the  sins  of  many, 
the  heavenly  Shepherd  w^ho  had  come  to  gather 
together  his  lambs  in  the  safe  shelter  of  one  fold? 
How  tender!  how  subHme  was  this  coming  to- 
gether of  the  old  period  and  the  new  era!  how 
solemn  the  passing  away  of  types  and  shadows! 
how  glorious  the  accomplishment  of  that  which 
they  prefigured!" 

''But,"  said  Mr.  Leslie,  "is  it  not  somewhat 
hypothetical,  whether  or  not  these  prophecies 


150  THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


apply  to  the  Church  of  Rome?  That  is,  I  be- 
heve,  the  argument  you  wish  to  prove;  and  how 
are  we  to  determine  that  they  do  not  refer  to  uni- 
versal Christendom?" 

''My  dear  sir,"  replied  Father  Borgia,  ''it  is 
plain  to  perceive  that  those  numberless  prophe- 
cies in  the  Old  Testament,  some  of  which  I  have 
just  quoted,  can  refer  to  none  other  than  Christ 
and  His  Church,  the  fruition  of  which,  gathered 
by  his  disciples  and  apostles,  who  planted  the 
seeds  in  every  nation,  acknowledge  but  one 
source,  but  one  Hfe,  and  one  Lord!  Through- 
out the  gospels  our  divine  Saviour  constantly 
speaks  of  his  Church  as  'the  kingdom  of  heaven' 
and  the  'kingdom  of  God;'  thus,  when  speaking 
of  its  rapid  progress,  he  says,  'The  kingdom  of 
heaven  is  like  a  grain  of  mustard  seed;'  and  when 
predicting  the  vocation  of  the  gentiles  and  ex- 
clusion of  the  Jews,  he  says,  'The  kingdom  of 
heaven  is  like  to  a  king  who  made  a  marriage- 
feast  for  his  son.'  Thus  the  constant  repetition 
of  the  assertion,  both  in  the  Old  and  New  Testa- 
ment, that  the  Church  of  Christ  is  a  kingdom, 
can  leave  no  doubt  of  its  Hteral  signification,  or, 
rather,  truth.  You,  sir,  who  are  so  well  versed 
in  the  pages  of  ancient  and  modern  history — 
who  know  all  the  principal  events  of  the  past  and 
present  ages — tell  me,  I  pray  you,  does  any 
earthly  kingdom  exist  now  which  flourished 
eighteen — sixteen  centuries  ago?      Does  any 


THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY, 


151 


empire  stand  now,  like  an  emblem  of  Eternity, 
which  ruled  then?  Where,  I  ask,  are  the  dynas- 
ties, the  principalities,  the  powers  of  the  first 
ages  of  the  world?  Alethinks  I  hear  a  solemn 
voice  echoing  up  from  the  buried  past — where? 
This  kingdom  must,  then,  be  spiritual.  Where, 
then,  are  those  who  'stood  up  against  her,'  with 
new  and  vain  doctrines  and  blasphemous  words, 
in  the  first  and  middle  centuries  of  the  Christian 
era?  where  their  system?  where  their  creeds? 
where  their  doctrines?  Perished.  Which  of 
those  sects,  which  now  exist  in  opposition  to  her 
truth,  existed  even  five  centuries  ago?  None ; 
therefore  none  of  these  can  be  the  kingdom  re- 
ferred to.  That  it  exists  would  be  vain  to  doubt; 
but  by  what  marks  shall  it  be  known?  It  must 
be  separate,  e7itire  and  distinct ;  it  must  be  in  the 
first  place  visible;  it  must  acknowledge  but  one 
Lord,  and  obey  only  the  authority  of  those  ap- 
pointed by  him — for  a  kingdom  divided  in  ser- 
vice against  itself  cannot  stand — and  avoid  all 
those  causes  which  would  convert  its  peace  into 
anarchy,  and  each  one  strive,  as  with  one  spirit, 
to  promote  its  greater  honor  and  more  exalted 
glory.  Where,  then,  is  this  visible  kingdom  of 
the  Son  of  God — the  everlasting  Prince  of 
Peace?  What  Church  is  there  governed  by  his 
exclusive  laws,  and  bound  together  by  that 
unity  \\A\\z\\  is  the  only  preservative  of  Faith? 
V\liat  system  or  creed  is  there  which  yields  im- 


152  TEE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 

plicit  obedience  to  those  orders  appointed,  with 
vice-regal  authority,  by  himself  for  the  better 
government  of  his  kingdom,  and  deem  too  per- 
fect to  be  altered  the  code  of  laws  which  he  in 
his  wisdom  established?  Behold  her  as  she 
stands,  founded  on  a  rock,  as  she  has  stood 
ithrough  all  ages,  unchanged  in  faith,  beautiful  in 
her  purity,  and  rich  with  sanctity — the  CATHOLIC 
Church  of  Rome!  If  this  kingdom  exists,  it 
exists  alone  in  her,  and  if  you  admit  that  Christ 
established  a  Church  on  earth,  you  must  also  ad- 
mit that  within  its  folds  is  the  kingdom  of 
Christ." 


THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY.  153 


CHAPTER  IX. 


A  PROLONGED  CONTROVERSY— CONVER- 


HERE  was  for  a  length  of  time  a  silence 


which  none  of  the  company  seemed  in- 


cHned  to  break.  The  truths  urged  by- 
Father  Borgia  had  sunk  deep  into  all  hearts. 

At  length  Mr.  Leslie  spoke: 

"Oh,  Christendom!"  he  exclaimed,  ''how  has 
thy  seamless  robe  been  torn!  how  is  it  possible  to 
reconcile  all  those  strange  religious  paradoxes, 
which  claim  the  God  of  Wisdom  as  their  author, 
with  the  truth?  Admitting,  however,  that  this 
'Kingdom'  and  'Church,'  of  which  we  have  been 
speaking,  are  synonymous  terms,  and  'that  the 
Catholic  Church  is  one  and  yet  the  other,  how 
are  we  to  know  that  she  has  not  fallen  into  error, 
and  by  her  abominations  forfeited  the  protection 
of  God?" 

''Because,"  said  Father  Borgia,  quickly, 
'■^God  cannot  lie.  He  is  truth,  and  the  truth 
alone  emanates  from  him.  His  wisdom  and  jus- 
tice are  infinite,  and  the  system  of  order  by  which 


SIONS. 


154  THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


he  governs  all  is,  like  himself,  immutable  and 
eternal;  therefore  he  will  not  own  those  who 
subject  themselves  to  the  illusions  of  human  in- 
ventions; therefore  will  he  not  recognize  those 
folds  as  his  who  reject  the  law  of  his  revealed  > 
word  and  the  authority  of  his  Church;  therefore 
he  cannot  acknowledge  those  creeds  as  true 
which,  professing,  all  of  them,  contradictory  doc- 
trines, war  with  each  other  in  spirit,  and,  through 
their  disunion  and  bitterness,  against  him;  who 
have  removed  the  ancient  landmarks,  and  hewn 
out  for  themselves  strange  ways;  who,  while  they 
preach  the  most  inconsistent  absurdities,  and 
own  no  authority  in  matters  of  faith,  are  forever 
subject  to  the  fantasies  of  their  own  imaginations 
and  tossed  hither  and  thither  by  every  wind  of 
doctrine!  All  which  proceeds  from  God  is  of  ne- 
cessity holy  and  consistent  throughout;  there- 
fore His  church,  to  which  he  promised  in  the  per- 
sons of  his  apostles  and  their  successors,  the 
Holy  Spirit  to  enlighten  them  and  protect  her 
forever,  must  be  holy  and  eternal.  When  Christ 
said  to  the  prince  of  apostles.  Thou  art  Peter, 
and  on  this  rock  will  I  build  my  Church,  and  the 
gates  of  hell  shall  not  prevail  against  her,'  he  con- 
veyed the  most  perfect  idea  of  strength  which 
one  could  possibly  imagine,  and  a  literal  signifi- 
cation which  all  generations  have  been  com- 
pelled to  acknowledge.  His  promise  was  not 
vain.    Built  on  a  rock,  how  can  she  fail,  and  pro- 


TEE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


155 


tected  by  the  holy  Spirit  of  the  Eternal,  how  can 
errors  or  abominations  creep  into  her  fold?  Thus 
did  our  divine  Saviour  promise  strength,  life,  and 
durability  to  his  spiritual  kingdom,  when  he  con- 
stituted Peter  the  visible  pastor  and  vicarious 
sovereign  thereof;  and  when,  with  tender  solici- 
tude, he  intrusted  to  his  care  the  'sheep  and 
lambs  of  his  flock,'  and  gave  unto  him  the  keys 
of  the  kingdom  of  heaven,  he  also  declared  that 
'whatsoever  he  bound  on  earth  should  be  bound 
in  heaven,  and  whatsoever  he  loosed  on  earth 
should  be  loosed  in  heaven.'  But  as  under  the 
old  law  ]\Ioses,  the  visible  ruler  of  the  ancient 
Theocracy,  could  not  discharge  alone  all  the 
duties  belonging  to  his  high  station,  and  was 
therefore  assisted  by  Aaron  and  his  sons,  who 
were  solemnly  consecrated  by  the  functions  of 
the  priesthood,  as  well  as  by  the  seventy  ancients, 
on  whom  a  portion  of  the  spirit  of  ]\Ioses  was 
conferred  to  aid  him  in  the  general  government; 
so  in  the  Theocracy,  if  I  may  so  express  it,  of  the 
new  law,  Peter,  its  supreme  visible  ruler,  was  as- 
sisted by  the  other  apostles  who  received  from 
Jesus  Christ  a  portion  of  the  same  power  and 
the  same  spirit  which  had  been  given  to  their 
chief.  For  though  to  none  of  them  except  Peter 
did  he  give  the  keys  of  the  kingdom  of  heaven, 
nor  the  general  commission  to  'feed  his  Iambs 
and  sheep,'  he  breathed  on  all  and  said  to  them, 
'Receive  ye  the  Holy  Ghost;  whose  sins  ye  shall 


156  THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY, 


forgive,  they  are  forgiven;  whose  sins  ye  shall  re- 
tain, they  are  retained/  To  all  he  said,  'As  the 
Father  has  sent  me,  I  also  send  you.  He  t?iat 
heareth  you,  heareth  me;  he  that  despiseth  you, 
despiseth  me;'  and  'Go  teach  all  nations,  for  be- 
hold! I  am  with  you  all  days  until  the  end  of 
time.'  St.  Paul,  in  speaking  of  the  whole  apos- 
tolic body,  says.  Take  heed  to  yourselves,  and  to 
the  whole  flock  wherein  the  Holy  Ghost  hath 
placed  you,  bishops  to  rule  the  Church  of  God 
which  he  hath  purchased  with  His  own  blood."* 

"But,"  said  Cora,  "under  the  ordinary  laws  of 
nature,  Peter  and  his  companions  could  not  live 
forever,  or  preach  to  all  the  world." 

"Remark  you,"  said  Father  Borgia,  "accord- 
ing to  the  promise  of  the  God-man,  the  Church 
was  to  continue  forever,  supported  against  all 
attacks  by  His  presence,  which  was  to  abide  with 
her  until  the  consummation  of  time;  therefore, 
it  is  certain  that  he  intended  his  Church  should 
always  have  a  visible  head  pastor,  holding  from 
Him  the  same  unUmited  authority  which  Peter 
did,  and  also  a  succession  of  pastors,  all  united 
with  their  pastoral  head  in  Christian  doctrine. 
From  which  it  appears  that  a  continual  succes- 
sion of  pastors  and  doctrine  is  annexed  to  the 
true  church  of  Christ,  and  in  this  succession  were 
some  prophets,  and  'some  apostles,  and  some 
evangelists,  for  the  perfecting  of  the  saints  for 
♦Bishop  Baines. 


TEE  8ISTER  OF  CHARITY.  157 


the  work  of  the  ministry,  for  the  edifying  of  the 
body  of  Christ  till  we  come  in  the  unity  of  faith, 
unto  a  perfect  man,  unto  the  measure  of  the 
stature  of  the  fulness  of  Christ,  that  we  be  hence- 
forth no  more  children,  tossed  to  and  fro,  carried 
about  by  every  wind  of  doctrine,  by  the  sleight 
of  men,  and  the  cunning  craftiness  whereby  they 
lie  in  wait  to  deceive.'  In  fine,  since  Jesus  Christ 
has  called  us  to  his  church  for  that  same  end 
which  St.  Paul  recommends  to  us  in  the  same 
chapter,  'to  put  on  the  new  man,  which,  after 
God,  is  created  in  righteousness  and  holiness,* 
the  church  of  Jesus  Christ  must  be  holy;  that  is 
to  say,  she  must,  by  her  doctrines,  encourage 
hoHness,  and  among  her  children  have  some,  at 
least,  remarkable  for  hoHness.  But  where,  my 
friends,  I  again  ask,  shall  we  find  this  church, 
founded  by  our  Saviour  and  his  apostles,  and 
spread  over  all  the  world,  if  it  be  not  the  Roman 
Catholic?  For  this  it  was  that  the  holy  apostles, 
St.  Peter  and  St.  Paul,  centred  at  Rome.  The 
faith  of  Rome  was  the  same  with  that  of  the 
apostles,  for  St.  Paul  says  particularly  in  writing 
to  the  Romans  that  'their  faith  was  his,'  there- 
fore she  was  apostolical.  This  same  faith,  as  he 
testifies  in  the  same  chapter,  was  preached 
throughout  the  world,  therefore  she  was  catholic 
or  universal.  She  was  built  upon  a  rock,  there- 
fore she  cannot  fail;  she  has  always  been,  and  is 
this  day  universal.     All  nations  on  leaving 


158  THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


paganism  come  into  her  fold.  It  is  she  alone 
that  has  a  continual  succession  of  pastors,  from 
St.  Peter  down  to  our  present  venerable  head  at 
Rome,  and  is  now,  as  in  the  days  of  the  apostles, 
a  visible  society,  under  a  visible  head,  who  is  for 
all  the  faithful  a  visible  centre  of  unity  for  all  the 
world.  In  all  parts  of  the  world  she  holds  ex- 
actly the  same  rule  of  faith,  therefore  she  is  one. 
She  has  had  an  infinite  number  of  saints  of  both 
sexes,  of  martyrs,  confessors,  and  virgins,  and 
she  teaches  her  children  the  way  of  holiness,  to 
fly  from  evil  and  do  good;  therefore  she  is  holy, 
by  consequence  she  inherits  the  true  faith  and 
religion,  and  is  the  true  Church  of  Jesus  Christ. 
Being  true,  she  is  therefore  the  only  church  en- 
titled to  our  obedience." 

"But  the  many  wicked  men  who,  belonging 
to  her  fold,  have  scandaHzed  her  pretensions  to 
purity,"  said  Blanche,  ''and  the  vile  deeds  which, 
perpetrated  under  her  authority,  must  in  conse- 
quence emanate  from  her — how  can  you  recon- 
cile this  paradox?" 

"They  emanated  not  from  her,  my  child,"  said 
Father  Borgia;  "her  spirit,  which  is  holy,  ac- 
knowledges no  fellowship  with  sin  or  crime.  It 
is  true  she  has  been  crucified  again  and  again, 
and  wounded  by  the  deeds  of  those  wicked  or 
ambitious  spirits  who,  wearing  the  garb  of  the 
sheep  of  her  fold,  were  ravenous  wolves,  filled 
with  maHce  and  every  other  evil  quality  which 


THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


159 


proceeds  from  the  father  of  evil;  and  yet,  as  well 
might  we  accuse  the  beloved  disciple  of  treason 
to  his  divine  Master  because  Judas  Iscariot  be- 
trayed Him  to  those  who  crucified  him,  or  pro- 
nounce the  faith  taught  by  Jesus  Christ  an  im- 
pure fabrication  because  the  devil  entered  into 
one  who  was  of  the  number  of  his  disciples — the 
arch-traitor,  who  sold  him — as  to  identify  the  vile 
deeds  of  wicked  men  with  a  religion  which  has 
taught  through  long  ages,  and  still  teaches,  all 
that  can  sanctify  the  soul  of  man  and  fit  it  to 
enter  into  the  unsullied  presence  of  God.'' 

''You  are  right,''  said  ]\Ir.  Leslie,  decidedly; 
''nothing  can  be  more  unjust  than  to  condemn  a 
system  because  some  few  of  its  followers  commit 
sins  against  the  laws  of  its  morality." 

'''And,"  continued  Father  Borgia,  '''as  incred- 
ible as  it  may  seem,  those  very  sects  which  pro- 
nounce her  vile  and  full  of  error,  and  heap  re- 
proach on  her  sacred  head  because  of  the  trea- 
sons practised  against  her  holiness  and  purity  by 
those  who  wore  the  garb  but  not  the  spirit  of  her 
faith,  acknowledge  without  hesitation  the  sanc- 
tity of  those  saints  who  have  flourished  both  in 
the  early  and  later  ages  of  the  church.  T/iey 
professed,  praised,  and  recommended  no  other 
than  the  faith  of  Rome,  and  rejected  all  separated 
from  it :  they  were  all  members  of  this  holy  body, 
of  which  Christ  is  the  head,  in  the  communion  of 
which,  and  in  the  defence  of  whose  truths,  thou- 


160  THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


sands  of  martyrs  triumphed  over  death  and  the 
sharpest  torments.  All  who  ever  fought  against 
this  everlasting  kingdom  in  their  separation 
from  it — the  followers  of  Arius,  Pelagius,  Mar- 
cion,  Macedonius,  Mahomet,  with  the  Doctae, 
Ebionites,  Gnostics,  Montanists,  Manichees  and 
numerous  other  sects,  founded  on  the  wild  theo- 
ries of  human  inventions,  have  with  their  authors 
perished,  and  returned  to  the  darkness  from 
whence  they  came.  Until  the  year  15 17  these 
new  religions,  in  which  are  contained  such  in- 
credible paradoxes,  and  which  subject  their  fol- 
lowers ahvays  to  doubts,  perplexity  and  change, 
because  they  can  neither  be  reconciled  to  the 
revelations  of  Christ  or  the  principles  of  right 
reason — and  which  now  oppose  with  such  viru- 
lent animosity  the  Church  of  Rome — did  not  ex- 
ist, neither  were  they  known  or  professed  by  any 
man  on  earth.  In  fact,  when  we  examine  their 
various  systems,  we  find  they  are  but  a  revival, 
and  so  many  unwholesome  compositions  out  of 
the  heresies  which  from  time  to  time  have  been 
condemned  by  the  Church  of  God.  Thus  the 
Doctse  denied  the  real  presence  in  the  Eucharist, 
and  used  it  only  as  an  emblem;  the  Ebionites  de- 
nied the  divinity  of  Christ,  and  beheved  that  he 
was  merely  human;  while  the  Gnostics,  Valen- 
tinians,  and  others,  anticipating  Calvin  and 
Luther,  preached  the  doctrine  of  election  and 
predestination;  and  all  denied  the  authority  of 


TEE  SISTER  OF  CHAR  ITT. 


161 


the  church,  its  apostolic  descent,  and  rebelled 
against  the  supremacy  of  its  head.  But  mark — 
this  Church  of  Rome  is  the  only  one  which, 
amidst  storms  of  heresy,  whirlwinds  of  error,  and 
through  the  lapse  of  long  ages,  has  always  and 
still  does  retain  the  three  marks  of  Jesus  Christ, 
namely,  she  is  one,  holy  and  apostolical,  and 
Catholic  or  universal.  Did  the  founders  of  those 
new  religions  which  so  confuse  the  world  by  their 
contradictory  doctrines  ever  work  a  single  mira- 
cle in  proof  of  their  commission  from  Almighty 
God?  Emphatically,  no!  On  the  contrary, 
they  were  men  whose  lives,  so  far  from  being  re- 
markable for  sanctity,  were  stained  with  sacri- 
lege, libertinism,  murder,  apostacy  and  crime. 
One  might  as  well  acknowledge  at  once  that  the 
holy  and  pure  God  tolerated  crime  and  turned 
a  favorable  eye  on  the  degrading  pollutions  of 
sin,  as  to  assert  that  f/zese  were  commissioned 
by  Him  to  declare  his  law  and  truth  unto  men. 
Their  adherents  labor  in  vain  for  the  conversion 
of  idolaters  and  the  ingathering  of  nations;  and 
though  they  extol  and  have  faith  in  the  merits 
of  Christ,  yet  neglect  to  imitate  his  life,  and 
are  heedless  in  those  great  duties  of  avoiding  sin 
and  doing  penance  for  sins  committed,  and  of 
applying  to  themselves  the  practice  of  virtue 
and  good  works,  cherishing  the  pernicious  error 
so  favorable  to  the  instincts  of  nature,  that  our 
Saviour  has  by  his  death  so  abundantly  satisfied 


162  THE  SI8TER  OF  CHARITY. 

for  our  sins,  and  purchased  heaven  by  his  death, 
that  all  we  have  to  do  is  to  believe.  But  the  in- 
fallible spirit  of  the  true  faith  teaches  us  that, 
notwithstanding  the  passion  and  death  of  the 
Son  of  God  be  of  themselves  more  than  sufficient 
to  cancel  the  sins  of  all  mankind,  and  that  his 
merits  are  of  infmite  value,  our  Saviour  will  yet 
have  us  to  apply  the  fruits  of  them  to  ourselves, 
by  imitating  his  virtues  and  co-operating  in  his 
dolorous  passion;  in  decHning  evil  and  doing 
good.  Jesus  Christ  came  into  the  world  on  a 
double  mission — first,  to  satisfy  for  our  sins  and 
deliver  us  from  their  extreme  penalty;  secondly, 
to  give  us  a  perfect  pattern  of  all  virtues  and  in- 
spire us  with  a  desire  to  copy  them  in  our  lives, 
as  he  has  told  us  in  these  words,  'I  have  given  you 
an  example,  that  ye  should  do  as  I  have  done  to 
you,'  and  'Learn  of  me,  for  I  am  meek  and  lowly 
of  heart,'  and  we  are  also  informed  by  St.  Peter 
that  'Christ  suffered  for  us,  leaving  us  an  example 
that  we  should  follow  his  steps.'  Oh,  my  be- 
loved friends,"  exclaimed  Father  Borgia,  rising 
and  standing  before  the  Httle  group,  ''come  into 
this  precious  fold;  make  yourselves  members  of 
that  holy  body  of  Christ,  which  is  the  supreme 
head;  return  to  the  way  of  your  fathers,  to  the 
path  of  the  saints,  to  the  religion  which  has  stood 
for  so  many  centuries,  and  been  confirmed,  main- 
tained and  watered  by  the  blood  of  martyrs;  a  re- 
ligion which  all  the  ancient  fathers  of  the  primi- 


TEE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


163 


tive  church  asserted  and  approved;  a  religion 
founded  on  the  'rock  of  ages/  against  which  our 
beloved  Lord  has  promised  that  the  gates  of  per- 
dition shall  7iever  prevail.  In  this  matter,  I  be- 
seech you,  have  an  eye  to  the  salvation  of  your 
souls,  for  'what  will  it  profit  a  man  if  he  gain  the 
whole  world  and  lose  his  own  soul?'  or  Svhat 
shall  a  man  give  in  exchange  for  his  soul?'  We 
have  but  one  soul — it  is  eternal,  and  its  eternal 
felicity  can  be  gained  by  naught  except  a 
true  faith;  and  as  there  is  but  one  God  and  one 
eternity  of  the  soul,  so  is  there  but  one  true  faith, 
by  which  it  may  receive  an  eternal  shelter  hard 
by  the  throne  of  the  heavenly  King;  and  this 
faith  is  only  to  be  found  in  the  holy  Catholic 
communion.  Therefore,  I  beseech  you,  by  your 
hopes  of  eternal  life,  to  embrace  it  without  de- 
lay." 

Father  Borgia  was  tall  and  pale,  with  a  coun- 
tenance which  always  wore  the  meek  look  of  a 
saint,  and  now,  as  he  stood  erect,  with  the  moon- 
beams falling  like  a  halo  on  his  white,  solemn 
brow,  and  his  eyes  flashing  with  the  spirit  of  the 
truth  lifted  heavenward,,  nothing  could  surpass 
the  holy  expression  of  his  aspect.  All  were 
silent  for  several  minutes,  until  Corinne,  rising 
with  tears  in  her  eyes,  approached  her  father, 
and,  taking  his  hand,  inquired,  ''Have  I  your 
consent,  father,  to  become  a  Catholic?" 

"j\Iy  dear  child,"  said  Mr.  Leslie,  also  much 


164  THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


affected,  "you  know  as  yet  nothing  of  the  sac- 
raments and  minor  doctrines  of  the  church.  It 
would  be  prudent  to  understand  their  meaning 
well  before  you  make  so  important  a  step." 

''Father,"  she  replied  decidedly,  ''I  am  con- 
vinced beyond  doubt  that  this  church  is,  above  all 
others,  the  only  true  church  of  God;  therefore  I 
cannot  believe  that  she  errs  either  in  doctrine  or 
the  meaning  of  her  sacraments!  Have  I  your 
consent?" 

''And  I,  my  dear  father?"  said  Blanche,  ap- 
proaching and  taking  his  other  hand. 

Sister  Therese,  who  had  taken  but  little  part 
in  the  evening's  conversation,  now  came  for- 
ward, as  from  some  involuntary  impulse,  and 
stood  with  calm,  pale  face,  and  her  hands  clasped 
in  an  eloquent  attitude  of  supplication,  beside 
them;  while  Edgar  St.  Johns,  affected  to  tears 
by  the  scene,  silently  joined  the  group.  Mr. 
Leslie  closed  his  eyes  for  a  moment,  and  grew 
very  pale;  then  rising,  he  pressed  his  daughters 
to  his  breast  and  exclaimed,  "I  am  conquered  at 
last!  We  will  all  go  up  together,  my  children, 
to  this  holy  hill  of  Zion,  and  beneath  the  shadow 
of  the  cross  learn  the  way  to  heaven.  Father," 
said  he,  extending  his  hand  to  the  priest,  "be  our 
guide." 

"All  unworthy  as  I  am,"  said  Father  Borgia, 
deeply  touched  by  this  unexpected  scene,  "and 
trusting  in  the  grace  of  God  to  replenish  me 


THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


165 


should  I  fail,  I  will.  Oh,  my  friends!  could  the 
gold  of  Ophir,  the  diamonds  of  Golconda,  or  the 
pearls  which  He  in  the  deep  purchase  a  single  mo- 
ment like  this?  No!  for  what  worth  would  be 
the  sovereignty  of  ten  such  worlds  as  this,  with 
all  their  illimitable  riches  at  command,  to  a  man 
if  he  lose  his  soul!  I  welcome  you,  my  children, 
to  the  threshold  of  the  true  church  of  Christ,  and, 
as  one  of  its  duly  authorized  pastors,  I  promise 
you  the  shelter  of  its  fold,  and  consolations  and 
blessings  in  the  name  of  Jesus  Christ,  which,  like 
the  beatitude  of  heaven,  would  require  the 
tongue  of  an  angel  to  describe  them." 

That  night  was  long  remembered  at  Elverton 
Hall,  for  then  did  this  amiable  family  join,  for  the 
first  time,  with  hearts  and  will  in  unison,  in  the 
worship  of  the  true  faith. 


166  THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY, 


CHAPTER  X. 


THE  HAUNTED  HOLLOW— CONFESSION— THE 
EUCHARIST— AN  ADVENTURE. 

A  WAKENED  with  the  first  rosy  beams  of 


morning  by  the  thrilling  carol  of  a  bird 


which  had  perched  itself  among  the  jessa- 
mine vines  which  draperied  over  their  windows, 
Corinne  raised  herself  on  her  elbow,  and,  looking 
around,  saw  that  Blanche  slept,  and  Sister  Ther- 
ese,  who  was  always  an  early  riser,  had  appar- 
ently been  up  some  time,  as  she  was  dressed  and 
kneeling  before  a  table  on  which  lay  her  open 
missal,  and  with  her  rosary  hanging  over  her 
clasped  hands  was  performing  her  usual  morn- 
ing devotions.  There  was  a  brooding  sense  of 
happiness  in  the  young  creature's  heart  which 
she  could  not  for  the  moment  define;  but  that 
sight  brought  at  once  the  whole  and  distinct 
recollection  of  what  had  occurred,  and  her  relig- 
ious position,  to  her  mind,  and,  making  the  sign 
of  the  cross,  she  immediately  arose,  and,  kneel- 
ing, offered  up  her  cheerful  thanksgiving  to  Al- 


THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY.  167 


mighty  God;  nor  did  her  active  faith  hesitate  to 
invoke  the  aid  of  the  Mother  of  our  Lord — of 
her  who,  raised  above  all  creatures  by  the  singu- 
lar honors  conferred  on  her  by  the  Most  High, 
is  so  justly  entitled  to  our  veneration  and  love. 
She  awoke  Blanche  with  a  kiss,  and,  pointing  to 
Sister  Therese,  whispered,  "We,  too,  are  mem- 
bers of  the  communion  of  saints." 

''Dear  sister,"  she  replied,  rising  from  her  place 
of  rest,  "what  a  profound  sentiment  of  rest  and 
peace  your  words  have  imparted  to  my  soul! 
Let  me  kneel,  and  with  a  thankful  heart  adore 
Him  who  has  so  wonderfully  led  us  among  the 
pastures  of  His  fold." 

She  took  from  a  small  drawer  the  ivory  cruci- 
fix which  Edgar  St.  Johns  had  brought  her,  and 
laying  it  on  a  table  knelt  to  pray  and  contem- 
plate the  image  of  her  crucified  Lord,  which  is 
always  so  well  calculated  to  bring  into  active  life 
those  springs  of  devotion  which  sometimes  al- 
most wither  in  our  hearts  unless  called  forth  by 
some  sacred  and  exterior  symbol.  Their  maid, 
Amy,  entered  the  room  softly,  and  with  a  stare 
of  silent  surprise  toward  the  Sister  of  Charity 
and  Blanche,  proceeded  on  tiptoe  to  whisper  to 
Corinne  "that  Mr.  Leslie  was  waiting  an  early 
breakfast  for  them  and  hoped  they  would  hurry 
down,  as  he  was  anxious  for  them  to  take  a  short 
walk  with  him  before  the  sun  got  higher." 

"Tell  my  father  that  we  will  not  detain  him  a 


168  TEE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY, 


moment  longer  than  our  toilette  is  made,"  said 
Cora,  in  the  same  subdued  tone;  ''and  do  you  re- 
turn quickly,  my  good  girl,  and  assist  us." 

The  twins  were  soon  arrayed,  with  Amy's  as- 
sistance, in  fine  white  cambric  blouses,  with  a 
simple  blue  ribbon  twisted  beneath  their  small 
and  exquisitely  worked  collars,  which  were 
fastened  by  a  single  large  pearl  on  their  bosoms. 
With  Sister  Therese  they  descended  to  the 
breakfast  parlor,  and  found  Mr.  Leslie  alone, 
who,  after  exchanging  the  compliments  of  the 
morning  with  her,  embraced  his  daughters  with 
paternal  tenderness. 

''We  will  sit  down,"  said  he;  "Father  Borgia 
and  Edgar  have  been  out  an  hour,  and  requested 
that  we  would  meet  them  at  the  spot  to  which 
I  am  to  conduct  you." 

"Quite  mysterious  enough  for  a  novel,  I  de- 
clare," said  Corinne,  laughing.  "It  is  some- 
thing new  to  such  quiet  folks  as  we  to  have  an 
adventure.  I  trust  the  rendezvous  is  in  the 
'haunted  Hollow.'  " 

"We  will  fancy  ourselves  in  the  Isle  of  Delos 
while  we  search  for  the  Apollo  of  its  shades,"  said 
Blanche. 

"True,"  replied  Corinne,  gayly;  "I  had  quite 
forgotten  the  mysterious  music  of  which  we  were 
to  hear  an  explanation  to-day.  We  shall  not  be 
disappointed,  dear  father?" 

"Certainly  not,  my  love;  the  mystery  shall  be 


TEE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY.  169 


solved  to  your  perfect  satisfaction/'  said  Mr. 
Leslie. 

*'We  were  in  hopes  also  of  having  mass  this 
morning,"  said  Sister  Therese. 

"Perhaps  v^e  may  not  be  disappointed,  as 
Father  Borgia  has  not  said  his,"  he  replied. 

"Begging  you  all  to  excuse  me,  my  kind 
friends,  I  will  in  that  case  fast  until  the  usual 
breakfast  hour,  as  I  hope  to  receive  the  Holy 
Communion  this  morning,"  said  Sister  Therese, 
modestly. 

"I  envy  you!  oh,  how  I  envy  you!"  exclaimed 
Blanche,  earnestly. 

"What,  dear  child?"  said  she,  astonished. 

"I  envy  you  the  happiness  of  receiving  such 
celestial  food.  Oh,  that  I  were  worthily  pre- 
pared to  receive  it  with  you!"  said  Blanche,  while 
tears  filled  her  lovely  eyes. 

"Is  it  possible  that  you  receive  this  usually 
difficult  dogma  with  such  ready  faith?"  inquired 
Sister  Therese. 

"As  strange  as  it  may  appear,"  replied 
Blanche,  "the  doctrine  of  the  Real  Presence  has 
presented  few  or  no  difficulties  to  my  faith.  The 
expressions — so  decided  and  apparently  so  lit- 
eral in  their  meaning — relative  to  the  eucharistic 
feast,  always  confounded  me,  particularly  in  the 
sixth  chapter  of  St.  John,  when  compared  with 
the  belief  of  Protestants  on  that  point:  but  when 
Edgar  explained  to  me  the  belief  of  the  Church 


170  THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


on  the  Real  Presence,  it  all  appeared  familiar  and 
easy,  and  seems  actually  like  some  newly-devel- 
oped instinct,  which  I  discover  with  joy,  and 
wonder  where  it  has  so  long  remained  hidden. 
Oh!  I  long  for  the  time  to  come  when  I  also  may 
receive  the  food  of  angels!" 

''Your  ready  faith  in  that  which  generally 
proves  a  stumbhng-block  to  many  is  indeed  a  pe- 
culiar grace,"  said  Sister  Therese. 

''A  stumbling-block,"  said  Mr.  LesHe,  "to 
those  who  wilfully  close  their  minds  to  the  literal 
meaning  of  the  words  of  our  Lord  in  the  institu- 
tion of  the  eucharistic  sacrifice,  and  who  heed  as 
little  the  signification  of  the  figures  and  proph- 
ecies of  this  sacrifice  under  the  old  law  as  they  do 
its  real  accomplishment  under  the  new.  When 
they  insist  on  declaring  that  the  sacrifice  of  the 
Paschal  lamb  was  figurative  alone  of  the  death 
of  Christ,  they  forget  that  not  one,  but  many 
were  slain,  which,  after  being  offered  and  slain, 
were  eaten  by  the  priests  who  sacrificed,  and  the 
people;  and  seem  to  be  waiting  yet  for  the  ac- 
complishment of  the  prophecy  of  Malachi  con- 
cerning it,  by  which  it  was  clearly  foretold  in 
these  remarkable  words:  'From  the  rising  of  the 
sun,  even  to  the  going  down  thereof,  my  name 
is  great  among  the  Gentiles,  and  in  every  place 
there  is  sacrifice,  and  there  is  offered  up  to  my 
name  a  clean  oblation,  for  my  name  is  great 
among  the  Gentiles,  saith  the  Lord  of  Hosts.'* 


THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


171 


The  Church  teaches  us,  as  weh  as  the  words  of 
Christ  himself,  and  the  authority  of  tradition, 
that  in  the  sacrifice  of  the  Mass  we  behold  that 
which  was  prefigured  by  the  Paschal  lamb,  and 
also  this  clean  oblation,  which  by  her  is  alone 
offered  throughout  the  world,  from  the  rising  of 
the  sun  to  the  going  down  thereof,  and  also  the 
miracle  foretold  by  the  royal  Psalmist  in  the 
thirty-third  Psalm,  which  is  fully  explained  by 
St.  Augustine,  who  says:  'To  carry  himself  in 
his  own  hands  is  impossible  to  man  and  pecuhar 
to  Christ  alone;  he  was  carried  in  his  own  hands 
when,  giving  his  body  to  be  eaten,  he  said. 
This  is  my  body.'  The  Council  of  Trent  de- 
clares that  the  sacrifice  of  the  Alass  is  one  and  the 
same  sacrifice  with  that  of  the  cross:  the  victim 
is  one  and  the  same,  Christ  Jesus,  who  oft'ered 
himself  for  us  once  onh'  a  bloody  sacrifice  on  the 
altar  of  the  cross.  The  bloody  and  unbloody 
victim  is  still  one  and  the  same,  and  the  oblation 
of  the  cross  is  daily  renewed  in  the  eucharistic 
sacrifice,  in  obedience  to  the  commands  of  our 
Lord,  This  do  for  a  commemoration  of  me.'  " 

'Tt  is  a  wonder,"  said  Corinne,  over  whose 
countenance  a  shade  of  sadness  had  gradually 
gathered,  "which  is  so  thoroughly  opposed  to 
nature  and  human  reason,  that  it  seems  posi- 
tively incredible." 

'To  the  senses,"  said  i\Ir.  Leslie,  'Svhich  are 
always  ready  with  their  plausible  objections  to 


172 


THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


destroy  the  mysteries  of  faith,  and  seek  into 
those  things  which  are  forbidden — the  secrets  of 
God — it  is.  But  when  our  Lord  says,  'This  is 
my  body,  this  is  my  blood,'  no  man,  however 
ignorant,  unless  he  labors  under  some  obhquity 
of  intellect,  can  mistake  his  meaning,  particularly 
if  he  recollect  that  the  words  'body'  and  'blood' 
refer  to  his  human  nature,  the  real  assumption  of 
which  by  the  Son  of  God  no  Catholic,  at  least, 
can  doubt.  If,  as  many  assert,  the  sacrament 
presents  nothing  to  our  veneration  but  a  mem- 
orial and  sign  of  the  passion  of  Christ,  why  are 
the  faithful  thus  impressively  exhorted  by  the 
apostle  St.  Paul,  in  energetic  words  like  these: 
'But  let  a  man  so  prove  himself,  and  so  eat  of 
that  bread,  and  drink  of  that  chalice;  for  he  that 
eateth  and  drinketh  unworthily,  eateth  and 
drinketh  judgment  to  himself,  not  discerning 
the  body  of  the  Lord;'*  and  again  he  says,  'The 
chalice  of  benediction  which  we  bless,  is  it  not 
the  communion  of  the  blood  of  Christ?  and  the 
bread  which  we  break,  is  it  not  the  participation 
of  the  body  of  the  Lord?'t  Thus  you  see,  my 
dear,  the  apostles  viewed  this  doctrine  exactly 
in  the  same  light  and  meaning,  and  of  the  same 
importance,  that  the  Church  now  does." 

'T  cannot  help  being  astonished,"  said  Sister 
Therese,  "at  the  really  Catholic  arguments  you 


*i  Cor.  xi.  28,  29. 


ti  Cor.  X.  16. 


THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


173 


use,  sir.  ''I  thought  you  were  until  lately  a  per- 
fect stranger  to  our  doctrines." 

''No,"  said  I\Ir.  Leslie,  smiling;  ''you  are  mis- 
taken. In  my  search  after  a  religion  many  years 
ago,  I  acquainted  myself  thoroughly  with  the 
most  essential  dogmas  of  the  church,  and  was 
only  deterred  from  becoming  a  Catholic  by  the 
fear  that  the  religion  had  become  corrupt  in 
practice  as  well  as  doctrines,  which  was  no  doubt 
also  mingled  with  a  few  motives  of  human  re- 
spect. But  come,"  said  he,  rising  from  the  table, 
"let  us  go  meet  our  friends,  or  they  may  think 
we  have  declined  granting  their  request.^' 

As  they  stepped  forth  into  the  open  air.  Cor- 
inne  with  her  father  and  Blanche  with  Sister 
Therese,  each  heart  was  affected  by  the  tranquil 
beauty  of  the  scene.  Fragrant  winds,  laden  with 
the  sweets  of  wild  flowers  and  clover  pastures, 
crept  lazily  up  and  stirred  the  plumes  of  the  for- 
est pines,  and  whispered  low  melodies  among  the 
wide-spreading  branches  of  the  ancient  oaks, 
while  the  roses  and  rich-hued  blossoms  that 
gemmed  the  earth  moved  gracefully  to  and  fro, 
as  if  each  responded  to  some  glad  throb  in  na- 
ture's mighty  heart.  The  sky  was  flecked  with 
a  few  snowy  clouds,  which  floated  through  the 
azure  depths  like  white-winged  spirits  on  a  mis- 
sion of  peace.  Innumerable  birds  filled  the  air 
with  sweet,  wild  melodies,  while  the  distant 
sounds  of  lowing  herds  and  beating  flocks  joined 


174 


TEE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY, 


with  them  in  their  matin  hymn.  Butterflies 
and  humming-birds  flitted  about,  with  the  sun- 
shine glancing  on  their  wings,  on  their  way  to 
cheat  the  orange  blossoms  of  their  sweets,  and 
even  the  lowly  grass  hid  the  fragrant  violet  be- 
neath its  pointed  blades,  which  bent  down  over 
them,  and  glittered  beneath  the  weight  of  the 
bright  dewdrops  which  the  sun  had  spared. 

''How  nature  rejoices  in  the  harmony  of  her 
laws,"  said  Sister  Therese.  ''Our  merciful  God 
has  left  nothing  incomplete  either  in  the  tem- 
poral or  spiritual  designs  which  he  intends  for 
our  good." 

"The  angels  themselves  might  rejoice  on 
earth  to-day,"  said  Blanche. 

"Not  because  of  its  brightness,  my  child,  for 
they  are  dwellers  in  a  land  where  the  unveiled 
presence  of  the  Lamb  maketh  one  eternal  day,  of 
whose  Hght  this  is  but  a  dim  shadow.  And  yet, 
amidst  all  the  glories  which  surround  them,  and 
the  peace  whereof  they  are  full,  so  that  it  would 
seem  there  was  naught  else  which  could  add  to 
their  joy,  we  are  told  there  is  joy  before  them 
upon  one  sinner  doing  penance."* 

"By  penance  you  mean  confession,  do  you 
not?"  inquired  Blanche. 

"Not  exactly,  unless  joined  with  sincere  con- 
trition and  true  satisfaction.  Confession  is  the 
exterior  sign  of  inward  contrition,  without 
♦Luke  XV.  1 8. 


TEE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


1Y5 


which  the  heahng  influences  and  divine  graces 
which  flow  into  our  souls  through  the  sacrament 
of  penance  cannot  be  appHed.  The  mere  act  of 
confession  avails  nothing;  the  sentence  of  abso- 
lution, which,  in  virtue  of  his  authority,  the 
priest  pronounces,  are  all  worse  than  naught  un- 
less the  penitent  feels  sincere  contrition  and  sor- 
row for  his  sins,  and  an  earnest  desire  to  avoid 
them,  and  gain  new  grace  to  withstand  those 
wliich  beset  him.  Without  these  essential  qual- 
ifications, confession  is  sacrilege,  and  the  sen- 
tence of  absolution,  so  far  from  being  of  any 
avail  to  him,  goes  up  to  give  testimony  of  his 
crime,  and  is  recorded  against  his  name  on  the 
pages  of  the  everlasting  archives." 

"1{  one  could  be  a  Catholic  without  confes- 
sion," said  Blanche,  hesitatingly. 

'That  is  impossible,"  replied  Sister  Therese. 
''The  seven  sacraments  of  the  church  form  a 
bright  chain,  which,  if  one  link  be  lost,  is  broken 
and  useless.  If  confession  were  not  absolutely 
necessary,  our  divine  Lord  would  not  have  left 
with  his  church  the  power  of  forgiving  sins, 
or  the  authority  to  bind  and  loose  on  earth,  say- 
ing, 'Whose  sins  you  forgive,  they  are  forgiven, 
and  whose  sins  ye  retain,  they  are  retained,'  with 
the  assurance  that  'whatsoever  they  bound  on 
earth  should  be  bound  in  heaven,  and  whatsoever 
they  loosed  on  earth  should  be  loosed  in  heaven,' 
Contrition,  confession  and  satisfaction  are  the 


176 


THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


three  integral  parts  of  penance,  without  which 
the  divine  power  bestowed  on  the  priesthood  by 
our  Lord,  under  the  metaphor  of  the  'keys  of  the 
kingdom  of  heaven,'  will  avail  nothing  for  us." 

''But  is  it  necessary  to  particularize  every 
sin?"  inquired  Blanche.  "You  know,  dear  sis- 
ter, the  human  heart  is  but  an  ever-springing 
fount  of  sin,  which,  flowing  unbidden,  ofttimes 
deforms  our  natures,  and  hurries  away,  on  its  im- 
petuous torrent,  its  better  inspirations.  Can 
we  not  say,  in  general  terms,  we  are  sinners?" 

"Because,  my  dear  child,  the  human  heart  is 
desperately  wicked,  and  above  all  other  things 
deceitful;  it  needs  a  steady  restraining  principle, 
an  impartial  friend,  a  spiritual  guide,  which  can 
protect,  advise,  and  lead  it  in  safety  along  the 
devious  ways  of  life.  Were  you  ill,  or  suffering 
from  a  malady  which  developed  itself  in  a  variety 
of  painful  symptoms  that  required  prompt  medi- 
cal aid,  you  would  not  only  say  to  your  physician, 
in  general  terms,  'I  am  ill,  and  wish  to  be  healed,' 
but,  obeying  the  dictates  of  common  sense  and 
the  laws  of  medical  science,  you  would  tell  him 
distinctly,  and  without  prevarication,  all  the  par- 
ticular details  of  your  case,  and  note  every  pain- 
ful symptom,  without  which  it  would  be  a  moral 
impossibility  for  him  to  apply  those  remedies 
which  would  benefit  you,  or  prevent  a  recurrence 
of  your  malady.  There  is  a  strong  affinity  be- 
tween the  character  of  a  physician  and  a  priest; 


TEE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


one  ministers  to  a  diseased  body,  the  other  to  a 
diseased  soul;  and  while  one  regards  those  pa- 
tients more  highly  who  will,  without  false  deli- 
cacy, or  prudish  whims,  give  him  a  clear  and  suc- 
cinct statement  of  their  case,  that  their  ministra- 
tions may  be  the  more  certain  and  efficacious, 
so  our  spiritual  physician,  who  is  bound  under  a 
religious  vow  never  to  reveal  that  which  is  con- 
fided to  his  ear,  as  our  bodily  physician  is  bound, 
by  the  ties  of  laws  of  honor,  to  hold  sacred  the 
confidence  of  his  patients,  must  understand  fully 
all  those  sins  of  pride,  malice,  ambition,  evil  de- 
sires and  criminal  wishes  either  against  ourselves 
or  our  neighbors,  ere  he  can  understand  the  ex- 
tent or  enormity  of  the  soul's  disease,  ere  he  can 
apply  the  balm  of  consolation  to  the  wounds 
which  sin  has  made,  or  loose  us  from  the  fetters 
in  which  it  has  bound  us  :  ere  our  souls  can  be 
sufficiently  'proved'  to  enter  through  the  power 
of  the  keys  into  the  holy  places  of  the  kingdom 
of  God,  and  partake  of  the  angelic  banquet  which 
is  spread  therein.'' 

"The  thought  of  that,"  said  Blanche,  with  an 
animated  countenance,  ''reconciles  me  to  all  that 
is  new  or  humiliating  in  the  practice  of  confes- 
sion. I  perceive  the  truth  and  justice  of  your 
remarks,  and,  believing  that  the  Catholic  Church 
holds  and  practises  the  only  true  faith,  yield  per- 
fect assent  to  all  she  teaches." 

''Your  sister  has  no  difficulties  about  confes- 


178  THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


sion,"  replied  Sister  Therese;  'Sve  conversed  un- 
til twelve  last  night  on  the  subject,  and  she  in- 
tends beginning  a  general  confession  to-day — 
that  is,  a  confession  of  the  sins  of  her  whole  life, 
as  far  as  she  can  remember,  after  which  she  will 
be  conditionally  rebaptized  according  to  the 
rites  prescribed  for  this  sacrament  by  the 
church." 

''The  same  hour  witnessed  our  birth,  and  the 
same  hour  shall  witness  a  new  and  happier  one, 
when  the  waters  of  regeneration  are  poured  on 
us,"  said  Blanche,  in  an  earnest  tone. 

"And  may  you  carry  the  white  veil  of  inno- 
cence, which  your  souls  will  receive  in  baptism, 
unspotted  to  the  judgment-seat,"  responded 
Sister  Therese,  solemnly. 

'Tray  for  us,"  said  Blanche,  pressing  her  hand, 
''that  our  Lord  may  give  us  grace;  but  listen, 
dear  sister,"  said  she,  pausing  and  laying  her 
hand  on  Sister  Therese's  arm;  "listen!  surely  that 
is  music  I  hear." 

"How  sweet  and  solemn  are  the  sounds,"  re- 
pHed  Sister  Therese. 

They  were  not  deceived.  There  came  stealing 
up  through  the  woods  a  faint  sound  of  distant 
music,  which  rose  and  fell  with  the  winds,  and 
whose  soft,  prolonged  notes  were  solemn  and 
beautiful.  The  birds  hushed  their  songs  for  an 
instant,  then,  as  if  pleased  with  the  melody, 
broke  forth  in  louder  strains,  and  flew  as  if  in 


THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


179 


ecstacy  from  bough  to  bough.  Mr.  Leslie  and 
Corinne  were  far  m  advance  of  them,  and  only 
at  intervals  the  glancing  of  Corinne's  white  dress 
through  the  trees  gave  indication  of  the  direc- 
tion they  were  taking. 

''We  are  approaching  the  'Haunted  Hollow/ 
and  the  music  seems  really  to  proceed  from  it," 
said  Blanche;  "but,  now  I  remember,  did  not  my 
father  promise  to  explain  the  mystery  this  morn- 
ing to  us?  Then  come,  sister,  let  us  walk  faster; 
here,  let  us  take  this  little  path  through  the 
copse;  it  is  narrow,  but  listen!  how  loudly  swells 
the  music!  how  much  nearer  it  seems!  Now 
we'll  go  around  this  rock,  and  down  that  little 
steep  path,  and  we  shall  reach  the  Hollow  before 
them.  Take  care  of  the  branches  about  your 
feet,  and  those  tangled  vines  overhead,"  contin- 
ued Blanche,  pushing  them  aside,  and  in  the  at- 
tempt wounding  her  hand.  ''Here,  give  me 
your  hand,  sister — a  few  steps  further — there, 
we  are  safely  down.  Let  us  hurry  around  yon- 
der clump  of  trees,  and  we  shall  be  in  the  Hollow. 
Oh!"  she  exclaimed,  suddenly  stopping,  "how 
beautiful!  how  beautiful!  and,  after  all,  there 
stands  father  and  Cora  before  us,  enjoying  our 
surprise." 

"Behold  the  mystery  of  the  Haunted  Hollow," 
said  Mr.  Leshe  as  they  approached,  pointing  to 
the  exquisite  Httle  chapel  which  he  had  erected 
with  such  secrec}^. 


180  THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


''May  we  not  go  in?"  asked  Blanche. 

They  entered.  The  morning  beams  were 
streaming  in  through  long,  narrow  windows  of 
richly  stained  glass,  and  fell  mellowed  and  trem- 
bling on  the  floor,  which  was  painted  in  admir- 
able imitation  of  marble.  At  the  upper  end 
stood  an  altar,  covered  with  draperies  of  rich 
embroidery  and  decorated  with  clusters  of  the 
most  fragrant  flowers,  amidst  which  blazed  a 
number  of  wax  Ughts,  supported  by  the  splendid 
candelabras  which  Edgar  brought  from  Rome. 
A  large  picture  of  the  crucifixion,  which  they 
had  not  before  seen,  hung  in  the  rear,  and  filled 
up  the  space  behind  the  altar  between  two  nar- 
row windows,  which  were  absolutely  gorgeous 
with  stained  glass.  Father  Borgia,  clad 
in  a  rich  white  vestment  heavily  embroid- 
ered with  silver,  knelt  on  the  broad  altar- 
step,  unconscious,  in  his  deep  devotion,  of 
all  exterior  objects  and  sounds,  while  a 
silver  urn  standing  at  a  short  distance  emitted 
the  most  delicious  aromatic  odor  and  diffused 
light  clouds  of  incense  throughout  the  place. 
Edgar  St.  Johns  was  seated  at  the  organ,  playing 
a  solemn  and  devotional  strain,  and,  Mr.  Leshe 
whispering  to  Corinne,  she  joined  him,  and  after 
a  short  whispered  conversation  began  to  sing 
with  him  from  the  notes  the  Litany  of  the 
Blessed  Virgin.  Their  voices  harmonized  ad- 
mirably together,  and  as  the  tender  and  beauti- 


TEE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


181 


ful  language  of  the  Litany,  expressed  in  such  har- 
monious accents,  ascended  towards  heaven,  Sis- 
ter Therese,  usually  so  calm  and  impassive, 
bowed  her  head  and  burst  into  tears  at  the  fa- 
miliar sounds.  After  the  hymn  was  done  Father 
Borgia  proceeded  to  celebrate  the  holy  myster- 
ies, in  the  ceremonies  of  which  he  was  assisted 
by  Edgar  St.  Johns,  and  accompanied  by  the 
devotion  and  prayers  of  those  present,  who,  be- 
ing provided  by  his  care  with  prayer-books  con- 
taining explanations  and  devotions  to  be  used 
during  mass,  were  enabled  to  follow  him  regu- 
larly in  the  different  parts  of  the  sacred  office. 
They  had  before  seen  mass  celebrated  in  their 
cousin's  oratory  at  home,  but  not  with  the  same 
feelings  that  now  pervaded  their  hearts. 

They  looked  on  it  then  as  a  solemn  and  impos- 
ing, though  passing  show;  but  now,  with  minds 
deeply  solemnized,  and  spirits  which  compre- 
hended the  great  dignity  and  importance  of  the 
venerable  and  mysterious  sacrament,  they  yielded 
themselves  up,  with  every  wish  and  desire  of  their 
souls,  to  the  truth  and  majesty  thereof,  and  when 
they  saw  the  Sister  of  Charity  and  their  cousin 
approach  to  receive  the  heavenly  banquet  in 
which  Christ  gave  them  himself,  they  hungered 
like  the  children  of  Israel,  who,  while  passing 
through  the  desert,  starved,  and  were  only  sat- 
isfied when  fed  with  bread  which  came  down 
from  heaven.    When  mass  was  over,  so  solemnly 


182  THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY, 


were  they  impressed  with  the  importance  of  all 
that  had  passed,  that  each  one  remained  kneel- 
ing, in  quiet  recollection  of  the  august  sacrifice, 
which  is  an  accumulative  miracle  of  the  immeas- 
urable love  of  God  to  his  creatures;  and  after 
meditating  on  the  immense  benefits  which  it  con- 
ferred on  those  who  believe  and  receive  this  mys- 
tery of  faith,  they  silently  retired  from  the 
chapel  and  waited  without  until  Father  Borgia 
joined  them. 

^'You  would  not  have  us  believe  in  Aladdin's 
wonderful  lamp,  dear  father,"  said  Corinne  on 
their  way  home;  *'if  not,  explain  this  strange 
affair." 

''It  will  be  no  longer  a  wonder,  my  love,  if  you 
will  only  remember  the  interdict  I  laid  on  your 
approaching  the  Hollow  some  six  or  seven 
months  ago.  As  to  the  rest,  my  frequent  con- 
versations with  Father  Borgia  here  and  your 
cousin  led  me  to  the  verge  of  CathoHcity,  and 
the  thought  struck  me  that  I  could  not  do  a  bet- 
ter thing  than  convert  my  summer  library  and 
music-room  into  a  chapel.  My  mind,  however, 
was  not  entirely  made  up  until  yesterday,  when 
Edgar  suggested  the  same  thing  and  gave  some 
very  important  reasons  why  it  should  be  done. 
I  half-reluctantly  gave  a  consent,  which  the 
events  of  last  night  have  not  caused  me  to  regret. 
While  we  were  all  enjoying  our  ride  yesterda}^ 
Edgar,  with  Sister  Therese's  assistance — who 


TEE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY.  1S3 

went  to  the  Hollow  after  leaving  Amy's 
mother — arranged  the  altar,  and  decorated  it  in 
the  beautiful  manner  you  saw." 

"Ah,  Sister  Therese,  you  in  the  secret,  too — 
who  could  have  beheved  it?"  said  Cora.  ''How- 
ever, I  feel  so  charmed  at  the  idea  of  having  a 
chapel  that  I  feel  disposed  to  forgive  everybody." 

''By  your  wonderful  magnanimity  you  truly 
make  a  virtue  of  necessity,"  replied  Islr.  Leslie, 
smiling;  "but  does  it  not  seem  as  if  Providence 
had  directed  everything?  even  the  nonsensical 
fears  of  my  people  will  be  turned  to  good  ac- 
count. Really,  I  had  no  more  idea  that  I  was 
building  a  Catholic  chapel  when  yonder  edifice 
was  commenced  than  I  had  of  discovering  the 
philosopher's  stone.  When  my  people  find  the 
phantoms  which  have  haunted  the  Hollow  are 
none  other  than  myself  and  the  organ  they  will 
not  be  so  apt  hereafter  to  give  a  supernatural 
coloring  to  those  things  which  they  cannot  ex- 
actly understand.  Perceiving  the  immense  im- 
portance which  the  Catholic  religion  is  to  the 
soul  of  man,  I  intend  having  all  their  children 
instructed  in  it,  and  themselves  also  as  far  as  they 
will  consent.  Twice  a  week  regularly,  on 
Wednesdays  and  Saturdays,  the  chapel  shall  be 
opened  for  their  use,  when  I  will  give  them  an 
hour  and  a  half  each  day  for  instruction  and  an 
hour  for  recreation,  during  which  they  may 
either  amuse  themselves  in  an  innocent  way,  or 


184  TEE  8I8TER  OF  CEARITY. 


work  their  own  ground.  This  will  prevent  men- 
tal fatigue  and  dissatisfaction.  May  I  ask  your 
assistance,  Father  Borgia?" 

'Truly  may  you,"  replied  the  reverend  gentle- 
man, grasping  his  hand  warmly.  "If  any  class 
of  human  beings  on  earth  need  care  and  religious 
instruction,  it  is  this  too  much  despised  and  neg- 
lected race.  My  Hfe  is  to  be  one  of  missionary 
labors,  and  I  could  not,  methinks,  better  cor- 
respond with  my  vocation  than  by  devoting  at 
least  a  portion  of  my  time  to  those  who,  away 
from  the  land  of  their  fathers,  linger  in  weary 
bondage.  The  Catholic  religion  will  teach 
them  all  which  can  make  their  inferior  position, 
with  its  trials,  one  of  merit  to  themselves  here 
and  hereafter.  Its  holy  influences  will  encour- 
age neither  rebellion  nor  disorders,  neither  indo- 
lence nor  licentiousness,  but  will  prove  a  salutary 
check  to  all  those  evils  which  are  of  common  oc- 
currence among  them." 

''We  will  all  co-operate  in  this  good  work,'* 
said  Cora;  "Blanche  and  I,  following  Father  Bor- 
gia's directions,  .can  assist  in  preparing  the  wo- 
men and  children  for  rehgious  instruction.  No 
doubt  the  maternal  pride  of  the  mothers  will  aid 
us  considerably  in  our  good  offices  towards  the 
children." 

"You  are  all  so  sanguine,"  said  Edgar,  smil- 
ing, "that  I  have  not  heard  a  single  difficulty 
suggested.    You  will  have  not  only  the  preju- 


THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


185 


dices  of  years,  rendered  stronger  by  ignorance, 
to  combat  with,  but  habits  and  superstitions 
which  are  almost  incredible,  to  overcome." 

''Ah,  well!  it  is  true  we  expect  all  this/*  said 
Mr.  Leslie,  ''but  if  one,  in  passing  through  a  field 
of  tares  gather  only  one  sheaf  of  wheat,  would  it 
not  be  worth  the  trouble?  We  shall  need  your 
assistance  also,  my  friend.  I  have  this  affair 
much  at  heart.  I  do  not  purpose  to  have  them 
taught  anything  which  would  prove  practically 
incompatible  with  their  position.  I  desire  to 
elevate  them  in  the  moral  scale  by  impressing 
on  their  minds  that  piety,  honesty,  faithfulness 
and  the  good  works  of  religion  can  add  a  dig- 
nity to  it.    Unfortunately,  we  cannot  do  more." 

"The  church,"  said  Father  Borgia,  "enjoins 
it  as  a  sacred  duty  on  masters  to  have  a  care  of 
the  souls  of  those  committed  to  their  care.  The 
obligation  and  responsibility  is  as  great  for  those 
who  are  their  servants  as  for  their  own  children. 
Their  souls  are  of  equal  importance,  and  he  who 
neglects  the  salvation  of  those  subordinates 
which  Providence  or  circumstances  have  con- 
fided to  their  protection  is  guilty  of  a  great  er- 
ror— I  may  say  sin — for  will  not  Almighty  God 
require  their  souls  at  their  hands?" 

"Well,"  said  Mr.  Leslie,  "in  Him  we  will  trust 
for  aid.  He  knows  our  intentions  and  will,  I 
humbly  pray,  sanctify  them  by  grace  which  will 
enable  us  to  persevere  in  our  difficult  task.  Be- 


186  THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


ing  a  Catholic  myself  does  not  satisfy  me.  I 
could  not  really  rest  last  night  for  reflecting  on 
the  number  of  souls  which  by  my  carelessness  or 
negligence  may  be  lost.  I  would  have  my  peo- 
ple, slaves  though  they  be,  come  with  me  into 
the  true  fold  of  Christ,  and  ^/lere^  at  least,  enjoy 
those  equal  privileges  which,  temporally  speak- 
ing, are  impossible.  The  building  which  we 
have  just  left  will  suit  admirably  for  our  pur- 
pose." 

"Your  plan,  my  dear  uncle,  is  worthy  of  the 
religion  whose  spirit  is  charity,  and  which  dic- 
tated it,"  said  Edgar. 

''What  on  earth  will  Mrs.  Murray  do?"  said 
Blanche. 

''Descend  from  the  dignity  of  her  office  and 
become  a  private  gentlewoman  forthwith,"  said 
Cora;  "she  will  never  be  anything  but  a  Baptist 
on  earth.  But  cannot  we  walk  faster?  Father 
Borgia  has  not  yet  breakfasted." 

"How  thoughtless  we  have  all  been,"  said  Mr. 
Leshe.  "I  have  been  so  accustomed  to  see  the 
various  divines  with  whom  I  have  ever  had  in- 
tercourse enjoy  a  hot,  substantial  breakfast  be- 
fore proceding  to  church  that  I  must  really  base 
my  apology  to  Father  Borgia  on  that  fact." 

"My  kind  friends,"  he  replied,  "I  do  assure  you 
that  an  apology  is  not  at  all  necessary;  I  am  not 
by  any  means  suffering  for  my  breakfast ;  on  the 
contrary,  an  hour  hence  will  do." 


THE  8IS1ER  OF  CHARITY. 


187 


"But  it  must  not  do,"  said  Blanche;  "I  gave 
special  orders  about  it,  and  I  am  sure  it  is  wait- 
ing for  you." 

When  they  arrived  at  the  house  and  entered 
they  found  the  table  spread  with  every  luxury 
that  southern  hospitality  could  offer;  fragrant 
coffee,  deUciously  flavored  tea,  hot  rolls,  steam- 
ing cakes  of  various  kinds,  with  ham,  and  oysters 
cooked  in  two  or  three  different  ways.  Edgar 
and  Sister  Therese  enjoyed  it  moderately,  and 
he,  as  usual,  by  his  gay  manner  and  busy  conver- 
sation, endeavored  to  divert  the  attention  of  the 
family  from  the  spare  diet  of  Father  Borgia,  who 
generally  partook  of  bread  and  water  and  vege- 
tables, varied  occasionally  by  milk  or  a  very 
small  portion  of  meat.  They  had  at  first  imag- 
ined that  his  appetite  was  bad;  then,  distressed 
at  the  idea  of  his  being  in  ill  health,  they  pro- 
vided new  delicacies  and  redoubled  their  kind 
importunities  for  him  to  eat,  and  added  addi- 
tional luxuries  to  the  table,  until  on  a  hint  from 
Edgar  they  forbore,  although  they  then  could 
not  understand  how  such  rigorous  abstinence 
could  benefit  the  soul.  But  they  now  began  to 
comprehend  why  a  ''member  of  a  thorn-crowned 
head"  should  not  be  too  delicate  or  fastidious 
with  regard  to  temporal  luxuries. 

'Tf  you  are  not  otherwise  engaged,  sir,"  said 
Mr.  Leslie  to  Father  Borgia  after  breakfast,  "we 
will  adjourn  to  the  eastern  drawing-room,  as  I 


188 


THE  8ISTEB  OF  CHARITY. 


have  promised  your  assistance  to  Corinne  on  a 
subject  which  has  given  her  no  httle  anxiety." 

''Ah!"  said  Father  Borgia,  *'you  did  well.  We 
will  all  defer  our  daily  meditation  for  that  which 
may  perhaps  prove  of  equal  edification.  I  am 
at  your  service  now,  my  child,"  he  said,  rising 
from  the  table. 

"Perhaps,"  said  Corinne,  blushing,  "the  au- 
thority of  the  church  on  the  subject  which  trou- 
bles me  ought  to  make  it  perfectly  satisfactory 
to  me;  however,  I  will  state  my  difficulty.  Be- 
ing present  on  two  or  three  occasions  when  Sis- 
ter Therese  and  Edgar  received  holy  communion 
I  observed  that,  while  you  gave  them  only  the 
bread  of  the  sacrament,  you  received  it  under 
both  kinds.  It  appears  to  me  that  all  should  re- 
ceive the  chahce  as  well  as  the  bread;  the  com- 
mand is  equally  obligatory  on  all." 

"Your  difficulty,  my  dear  child,"  said  Father 
Borgia,  with  that  mixture  of  dignity  and  sweet- 
ness so  common  to  his  nature,  "is  no  uncommon 
one.  Our  adversaries,  from  the  days  of  the 
Manicheans  to  the  present  time,  accuse  us  of  rob- 
bing the  laity  of  the  blood  of  Christ  by  denying 
them  the  cup,  but  this  is  a  palpable  falsehood,  for 
it  is  a  self-evident  fact,  which  both  faith  and  rea- 
son teach  us,  that  the  living  body  of  Christ  can- 
not be  without  his  blood,  nor  his  living  blood 
without  his  body;  so  that  wheresoever  Christ's 
body  is,  there  is  also  his  blood,  for  his  body  and 


TEE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY,  189 

blood  cannot  now  be  divided,  as  being  now  im- 
mortal and  impassible.  Christ  being  raised 
from  the  dead,  says  St.  Paul,  dieth  now  no  more; 
death  hath  no  more  power  over  him.  Hence  the 
faith  of  the  Catholic  Church  is  that  there  is  con- 
tained both  the  body  and  blood,  soul  and  divin- 
ity of  Christ  under  either  kind  or  species,  there- 
fore it  necessarily  follows  that  the  Eucharist  dis- 
tributed under  one  kind  only  is  not  a  lame  or  im- 
perfect sacrament,  since  one  sole  species  con- 
tains as  much  of  Christ  as  both  together — viz., 
all  Christ  entirely.  Neither  is  there  a  greater 
measure  of  grace  conferred  by  the  sacrament  pre- 
cisely when  it  is  taken  in  both  kinds  than  when 
it  is  taken  only  in  one,  for,  as  St.  Paul  says,  'An 
IsraeHte  that  gathered  much  manna  had  nothing 
over  than  he  who  gathered  less,'  so  a  Christian 
who  receives  the  sacrament  under  both  kinds 
has  nothing  more  of  Christ,  or  of  sacramental 
grace  than  he  who  received  it  under  one  kind  only 
(if  there  be  a  parity  as  to  the  disposition  of  the 
receivers).  It  appears  also  from  the  words  of 
the  Apostle  St.  Paul"^  that  thei  apostles  some- 
times either  administered  the  sacrament  in  one 
kind  only,  or  at  least  judged  it  sufficient  to  com- 
municate in  one  kind,  if  the  church  should  so 
command  it;  wherefore,  says  St.  Paul,  'Whoso- 
ever shall  eat  this  bread,  or  drink  the  cup  of  the 
Lord  unworthily  shall  be  guilty  of  the  body  and 
*i  Cor.  xi.  27. 


190 


THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


blood  of  our  Lord.'  Hence,  if  an  unworthy 
communion,  though  under  one  kind  only,  makes 
a  man  guilty  of  both  the  body  and  blood  of 
Christ,  in  like  manner  in  a  worthy  communion, 
though  only  under  one  kind,  both  the  body  and 
blood  are  received." 

''I  think,"  said  Cora,  ''that  the  Protestant  ver- 
sion reads  thus:  '^Eat  of  this  bread  and  drink  of 
this  cup.'  " 

''It  does,"  replied  Father  Borgia;  "the  trans- 
lators of  their  Bible  thought  fit  to  corrupt  the 
text,  which  they  have  done  in  this  manner,  by 
putting  in  'and  drink/  instead  of  'or  drink.'  Thus 
our  adversaries  hesitate  not  to  corrupt  the  Word 
of  God  in  order  to  form  an  argument  against  us." 

"Those  Scriptures,"  exclaimed  Edgar  indig- 
nantly, "which  the  church  preserved  during  the 
perils  of  fifteen  centuries,  unharmed  and  un- 
changed, whose  translations,  approved  of  by  ven- 
erable councils,  and  in  whose  meaning  the  saintly 
ancient  Fathers  agreed  in  as  with  one  spirit,  thus 
to  be  perverted  merely  to  make  arguments  in 
support  of  human  systems!    Shame!  Shame!" 

"Did  the  laity  ever  receive  the  communion  un- 
der both  kinds?"  inquired  Corinne. 

"Yes,  my  child,"  rephed  Father  Borgia, 
amused  at  Edgar's  vehement  exclamations; 
"when  the  Manichean  heresy,  which  held  the  cup 
to  be  unlawful  and  not  the  blood  of  Christ,  but 
the  gall  of  the  devil,_sprung  into  existence,  the 


TEE  SISTER  OF  CEARITY. 


191 


chi:rch,  to  exclude  them  from  the  communion  of 
the  faithful,  commanded  the  laity  to  receive  the 
holy  Eucharist  under  both  species.  So  now  she 
commands  them  to  receive  it  under  the  form  of 
bread  only,  to  detect  those  who  deny  that  Christ 
is  wholly  contained  under  both  species  alone. 
There  are  other  reasons  of  importance  which 
may  also  be  quoted  against  the  practice.  In  the 
first  place,  wine  unadulterated  with  spirit,  which 
is  prescribed  by  the  church,  is  difficult  to  get  and 
soon  decays,  so  that  the  sacrament  could  not  be 
well  kept,  which  would  be  necessary  for  the  sick. 
It  would  endanger  many  irreverences  of  spilling 
the  chalice  if  all,  old,  young,  halt  and  blind,  sick 
and  lame,  were  bound  to  receive  it.  For  these 
and  for  one  or  two  other  reasons  equally  just  we 
find  that  all  are  not  bound  to  recei\'e  it  under 
both  kinds,  and  that  Christ  has  left  the  manner 
of  receiving  to  the  determination  of  his  Church." 

'Ts  it  certain,  father,"  said  Corinne,  almost 
ashamed  of  her  doubts,  ''that  the  doctrine  of  the 
Real  Presence  has  been  believed  by  all  ages  of 
the  church  from  the  first  to  the  present?" 

"Shall  I  go  back  to  the  hour  when  our  Lord 
himself  said,  'This  is  my  body?'  ""^  said  Father 
Borgia.  "The  word  'this'  expressed  the  entire 
substance  of  the  thing  present,  and  therefore  if 
the  substance  of  the  bread  remained,  our  Lord 
could  not  have  said,  This  is  my  body.'  In 
*Matt.  xxvi.  26. 


192 


THE  SISTER  OF  GEARITY. 


St.  John  he  also  says,  'The  bread  that  I  will  give 
is  my  flesh  for  the  Hfe  of  the  world;'*  the  bread 
which  he  gives  he  here  declares  to  be  his  flesh. 
A  little  after  he  adds,  'Unless  you  eat  the  flesh 
of  the  Son  of  man,  and  drink  his  blood,  you  shall 
not  have  life  in  you;'t  and  again,  'My  flesh  is 
meat  indeed,  and  my  blood  drink  indeed;'!  when, 
therefore,  in  terms  so  clear  and  explicit,  he  thus 
calls  his  flesh  'meat  indeed'  and  his  blood  'drink 
indeed,'  he  gives  us  sufficiently  to  understand 
that  the  substance  of  the  bread  and  wine  no 
longer  exist  in  the  sacrament." 

"But  does  not  St.  Paul,  whose  authority  you 
have  so  often  quoted,  sir,  after  the  consecration, 
call  the  sacrament  bread?"  asked  Corinne. 

"This  argument  will  appear  very  weak,  my 
child,"  replied  Father  Borgia,  "if  you  will  ob- 
serve two  things.  First,  though  the  Scriptures 
positively  aflirm  a  change  of  the  substance,  yet 
sometimes  call  things  by  the  name  they  bore  be- 
fore their  substantial  change.  Thus,  though  the 
waters  were  changed  into  wine  at  the  marriage 
feast  in  Cana  of  GaUlee,  yet  the  evangeUsts  call  it 
'water  made  into  wine;'§  and  again,  we  are  told 
plainly  in  Exodus  ii.,  that  Aaron's  and  the  magi- 
cians' rods  were  changed  into  snakes  or  serpents; 
yet  after  the  change  it  calls  them  rods;  'Aaron's 
rod  devoured  the  magicians'  rod.'    The  second 

*John  vi.  52.  tjohn  vi.  54. 

$John  vi.  56.  §John  xi.  9. 


THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


193 


thing  which  you  must  observe  is,  that  the  Scrip- 
ture frequently  calls  or  gives  a  thing  the  name  of 
that  which  it  resembles  ;  thus,  because  angels  ap- 
peared in  the  resemblance  of  men,  they  are 
spoken  of  as  men,  both  in  the  sixteenth  chapter 
of  St.  ]\Iark  and  the  twenty-fourth  chapter  of  St. 
Luke,  and  in  many  places  also  in  the  Old  Testa- 
ment. What  wonder,  then,  that  St.  Paul  calls 
the  sacrament  bread,  since  it  bears  the  appear- 
ance of  bread,  and  was  bread  before  the  power  of 
Gcd  changed  it?'^  Who  could  bear  to  look  on 
the  unveiled  countenance  of  the  Lamb?  What 
human  eye  could  endure  the  splendor  of  his  face? 
What  mortal  would  dare  receive  in  his  unworthy 
breast  an  object  of  such  resplendent  glory? 
Behold  his  goodness,  his  mercy,  towards  our  hu- 
man nature!  He  veils  himself  under  the  simple 
and  familiar  form  of  bread,  as  he  once  veiled  him- 
self under  the  form  of  a  feeble  babe  and  a  dying 
man;  he  covers  over  his  divinity,  as  it  were,  with 
a  plain  and  simple  garment,  that  we  may  ap- 
proach and  receive  him  with  humble  confidence, 
and  for  this  unequalled  and  splendid  gift  he  re- 
quires— what?  our  faith.  Could  any  but  a  ser- 
aph's tongue  describe  its  excellence  in  a  worthy 
manner?  Can  we,  while  clad  in  mortal  flesh, 
give  thee,  oh,  Jesus  Christ!  that  adoration  and 
honor  which  this  inestimable  gift  demands? 
The  soul  may  feel  in  silence  its  divine  sublimity, 
*Council  of  Trent. 


194  TEE  SISTER  OF  CEARITY. 


but  this  is  all;  words  cannot  express  it ;  and,  over- 
powered, we  can  only  exclaim,  with  Thomas, 
My  Lord  and  my  God!" 

>  Father  Borgia  closed  his  eyes  for  a  moment, 
while  his  face  absolutely  glowed  with  a  rapid  and 
inexpressible  change,  which  made  it  appear  as  if 
a  beam  from  the  spirit-land  had  suddenly  de- 
scended on  it;  but,  instantly  recovering  his  usual 
composure,  he  again  became  pale,  and,  subduing 
a  certain  confusion  of  manner  which  he  had  be- 
trayed on  observing  that  his  emotion  was  no- 
ticed, continued  the  subject: 

''In  the  second  age  of  Christianity  St.  Igna- 
tius, bishop  of  Antioch,  and  disciple  of  the  apos- 
tles, who  suffered  martyrdom  about  the  year  107, 
in  his  epistle  to  the  Christians  of  Smyrna  calls 
the  Eucharist  'the  flesh  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ, 
which  suffered  for  our  sins,  and  which  the 
Father  raised  by  his  bounty.'  Thus  the  disciple 
of  the  apostles  wrote,  who  certainly  knew  the 
meaning  of  their  doctrines.  In  the  same  age  St. 
Justin,  martyr,  in  his  apology  to  the  heathen  em- 
peror for  the  Christian  religion,  affirms,  'That  as 
our  Saviour  Jesus  Christ  was  himself,  by  the 
word,  made  flesh,  and  took  for  our  salvation, 
both  flesh  and  blood,  so  are  we  taught  that  the 
Eucharist  is  the  same  body  and  blood  of  the  same 
Jesus  incarnate.'  Would  any  man  in  his  senses 
write  thus  to  a  heathen  if  he  understood  Christ's 
words  in  a  figurative  sense?    In  the  same  as:e 


THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY.  195 

St.  Ireneus,  in  his  fifth  book  against  heresies, 
speaking  of  the  bread  and  wine,  says,  'That  by 
the  word  of  God  they  are  made  the  Eucharist, 
which  is  the  body  and  blood  of  Christ.'  In  the 
third  age  St.  Cyprian,  in  his  sermon  on  the 
Lord's  Supper,  says,  'The  bread  which  our  Lord 
gave  his  disciples  being  changed,  not  in  shape 
but  in  substance,  by  the  omnipotency  of  the 
word,  is  made  flesh.'  He  likewise  says  that  in 
the  Eucharist  'We  eat  Christ's  body  and  drink 
his  blood.'  Origen,  respected  in  all  ages  for  his 
profound  learning,  tells  us  that  Tn  the  old  law 
the  manna  was  a  figurative  food,  but  now  the 
flesh  of  God  is  meat  in  reality,  as  he  himself  says, 
My  flesh  is  meat  indeed.'  Then  follow  a  host  of 
others — Tertullian,  in  the  third  age;  St.  John, 
Chrysostom  and  St.  Ambrose,  St.  Gregory  Nys- 
sin,  St.  Cyril,  partriarch  of  Jerusalem,  and  the 
great  doctor  of  the  church,  St.  Augustine,  who 
flourished  in  the  fifth  age,  and  an  army  of  innum- 
erable saints,  martyrs  and  doctors,  who  give  one 
and  the  same  testimony  of  the  truth  of  the  Real 
Presence  in  the  Eucharist,  and  in  the  same  sense 
which  the  church  teaches  in  this  our  day." 

"Then,"  said  Corinne,  while  tears  streamed 
over  her  cheeks,  "who  am  I,  what  am  I  that  I 
should  disbelieve  after  such  incontestable  proofs? 
Oh!  when  shall  I  become  a  member  of  this  relig- 
ion of  saints?" 

"You  are  already  one,  my  dear,  in  intention," 


196  THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


said  Sister  Therese,  taking  her  hand.  "Were 
you  to  die  with  those  intentions,  without  the  op- 
portunity of  practically  carrying  them  out  in 
your  life,  the  church  would  acknowledge  you 
among  her  departed  children.  But  you  will  live, 
and  I  hope  ere  many  days  to  see  you  a  visible 
member  of  the  fold  which  has  but  one  Lord,  one 
faith,  one  baptism,  in  the  enjoyment  of  all  its 
sacramental  consolations,  and  filled  with  hope  in 
the  world  to  come." 

After  dinner  Mr.  Leslie  and  Father  Borgia 
visited  the  numerous  cottages  of  the  blacks  on 
the  plantation.  After  conversing  patiently  with 
all,  and  explaining  in  simple  language  what  was 
required  of  them,  some  consented  to  hear  the  in- 
structions; others  declared  their  religion  was 
good  enough,  while  a  few,  looking  askance  at  the 
priest,  eyed  him  suspiciously  and  positively  re- 
fused, and  others,  professing  no  religion,  were 
pleased  with  the  novelty  of  the  thing  and  said, 
carelessly,  ''Oh,  yes,  sir;  we  will  come."  One 
point,  however,  was  agreed  on — they  were  all  to 
send  their  children  to  be  baptized  the  next  Sun- 
day, and  regularly  at  the  stated  periods  for  in- 
struction. The  evening  was  spent  in  planning  a 
suitable  and  commodious  house,  in  a  healthy  sit- 
uation, as  a  place  of  refuge  for  the  infirm  and 
superannuated,  where  they  might  be  properly 
cared  for,  and  only  employed  in  certain  light 
works  suitable  to  their  age  and  habits.  These 


THE  8I8TEB  OF  CHARITY. 


197 


plans  were  eventually  carried  out,  and  although 
the  planters  around  pronounced  Mr.  Leslie  to  be 
a  madman,  and  declared  that  such  an  example 
ruined  their  slaves,  he  persevered,  and  in  a  year 
or  two  his  charity  towards  his  people  was  amply 
rewarded.  His  harvests  increased,  his  barns 
were  no  longer  robbed,  and  they  became,  appar- 
ently in  direct  opposition  to  their  natures, 
thrifty,  industrious  and  cleanly,  while  order  and 
morality  generally  prevailed,  until  his  plantation 
was  a  model  which  was  praised  throughout  the 
state. 

That  night,  after  the  evening  devotions  were 
over  and  the  family  were  on  the  eve  of  retiring, 
the  house  servant  entered  the  drawing-room  and 
informed  Father  Borgia  that  a  strange  gentle- 
man wished  to  see  him.  He  went  out  immedi- 
ately, and  returned  in  a  short  time,  saying  that 
*'it  was  a  person  on  business,  and  he  would  be 
obliged  to  Mr.  LesHe  for  the  use  of  his  library  an 
hour." 

"Certainly,  sir,  with  pleasure,"  said  Mr.  Les- 
lie; "but  is  your  friend  incog.?" 

"He  wishes  to  remain  so,"  replied  Father  Bor- 
gia. "His  errand  is  a  religious  one.  This  is  all 
I  am  at  liberty  to  reveal  at  present  concerning 
him." 

"Ah,  father,"  said  Corinne,  in  her  gay  way, 
"do  give  a  hint!  Does  the  person  wish  to  be- 
come a  Catholic?    Just  tell  us  that  much." 


198  TEE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


"Oh,  Mother  Eve!  Mother  Eve!  will  you  never 
be  buried?"  said  he,  smiling,  as  he  took  a  light 
from  the  table  and  left  the  room. 

The  family  soon  retired,  and  Mrs.  Murray  was 
aroused  with  a  start  from  her  slumbers  by  hear- 
ing the  house  door  close,  and  a  horseman  gallop- 
ing rapidly  over  the  gravelled  carriage-drive. 


THE  &ISTER  OF  CHARITY, 


199 


CHAPTER  XI. 

A  DISTINGUISHED  CONVERT— A  PAINFUL  IN- 
TERVIEW—TRIALS. 

FATHER  BORGIA'S  nocturnal  and  myster- 
ious visitor  came  regularly  twice  or  thrice 
a  week  to  see  him,  at  the  same  hour  and  in 
the  same  manner.  But  he  was  so  perfectly 
silent  concerning  him,  and  never  hinted  in  the 
slightest  or  most  indirect  terms  who  he  was  or 
where  from,  that  the  family  began  to  think  it  was 
an  affair  of  such  secrecy  they  would  never  be  able 
to  fathom  it,  when  one  day  a  party  of  visitors 

came  from  E  .    Among  them  were  the  two 

ladies,  Mrs.  Dunmore  and  Mrs.  Catesby,  who  on 
a  former  occasion  fell  into  such  a  warm  conver- 
sation about  the  doctrines  preached  by  the  min- 
ister, who  had  been  twdce  reproved  by  his  bishop 
for  trying  to  disseminate  a  Romish  spirit  among 
his  people.  After  the  compliments  of  the  day 
had  been  exchanged,  and  some  trifling  conver- 
sation on  trifling  subjects  disposed  of,  Mrs.  Dun- 
more,  who  seemed  on  the  eve  of  really  exploding 
with  some  w^onderful  piece  of  news,  asked 


20e  THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY, 


Blanche,  during  a  brief  quiet  interval,  ''if  they 

had  all  heard  what  had  happened  in  E  

''No — anything  extraordinary?"  she  an- 
swered. 

"Wonderful!"  exclaimed  the  gossiping  lady, 
and  fairly  started  on  her  favorite  hobby.  "You 
know  everybody  has  said  for  a  year  past  that  our 
minister,  Mr.  Forrester,  did  not  preach  sound 
doctrines;  well,  lately  he  has  been  getting  more 
and  more  mystical,  and  never  failed  in  his  differ- 
ent discourses  to  say  something  odd  about 
auricular  confession — was  that  it,  Mrs.  Catesby? 
Yes! — well — auricular  confession,  priestly  abso- 
lution, and  sacrifice  in  the  Lord's  Supper,  and 
a  good  many  other  things  that  I  cannot  remem- 
ber. And  his  servants  say  that  he  muffles  him- 
self up  and  scampers  about  the  country  at  night 
on  horseback,  and  don't  get  home  sometimes  un- 
til midnight;  some  say  he's  after  no  good,  and  is 
studying  magic;  others  declare  that  he  used  to 
meet  a  Catholic  priest  somewhere,  in  some  out- 
of-the-way  place!  However,  I  wouldn't  swear 
to  that  part  of  the  story,  and  will  only  tell  ex- 
actly what  I  know.  On  Sunday  he  got  up  into 
the  pulpit,  and  as  usual  we  expected  to  hear  an 
eloquent  sermon,  mixed  up,  of  course,  with  a  lit- 
tle Catholicism;  but  he  was  as  pale  as  death — ■ 
wasn't  he,  Mrs.  Catesby? — and  tried  to  speak, 
but  he  could  not,  and  stood  some  time  with  his 
head  leaning  on  his  hand;  then  at  last  he  began 


TBE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


201 


in  such  a  low,  trembling  voice,  that  one  could 
scarcely  hear  him,  but  when  we  did  hear  him, 
didn't  the  congregation  rise  up  and  stare!  for  he 
said  it  was  the  last  time  he  would  ever  appear 
before  them  in  the  character  of  their  pastor;  that 
he  could  not  conscientiously  practise  a  religion 
which  he  did  not  believe;  that  he  was  convinced 
that  the  Church  of  Rome  was  the  only  true 
church,  and  on  that  account  he  intended  to  sac- 
rifice everything  for  it.  But  oh!  he  told  it  in 
such  beautiful  words,  and  his  language  was 
throughout  so  affecting,  that  everybody  cried — 
didn't  they,  j\Irs.  Catesby? — for  he  was  a  good 
man,  Mr.  Forrester  was.  Even  the  old  men  who 
got  up  and  left  the  church  in  anger  couldn't  help 
shedding  tears,  and  stood  at  the  door  listening. 
You  may  depend  there  was  a  little  talking  after 
church  was  over;  some  were  mad  and  some  sorry, 
some  pitied,  but  all  went  home  with  heavy 
hearts." 

Mr.  Leslie  and  his  daughters  glanced  at 
Father  Borgia,  who  nodded  intelligibly  enough 
to  convince  them  that  Mr.  Forrester  and  his  vis- 
itor were  one  and  the  same  person. 

''And  only  think,"  said  Mrs.  Catesby,  ''of  his 
giving  up  four  thousand  dollars  a  year!  That  is 
the  most  wonderful  thing  of  all,  and  the  people 
say  he  must  be  sincere,  at  any  rate.  My  hus- 
band says  he  is  going  to  be  a  Catholic  priest — 
ain't  it  a  pity? — he  is  so  talented!" 


202 


THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


* 'Which  will  cause  him  to  appreciate  more  sen- 
sibly the  sublime  truths  of  the  Catholic  religion," 
said  Mr.  Leslie,  seriously. 

*'La,  me! — do  excuse  me;  I  really  forgot  you 
were  all  CathoHcs,  but  it  does  seem  so  odd  to  me 
how  any  one  can  belong  to  such  a  strange  kind 
of  religion,"  remarked  Mrs.  Catesby. 

''Have  you  ever  read  a  Catholic  explanation  of 
the  Cathohc  faith,  madam?  If  not,  allow  me 
to  hand  you  this  excellent  book,"  said  Father 
Borgia,  handing  her  "Milner's  End  of  Contro- 
versy." 

"Oh,  no!  I  never  read  a  Catholic  book  in  my 
life,  but  I  know  all  about  the  religion  from  read- 
ing history  and  our  religious  papers.  T/iej/  ex 
plain  it  all,  you  know,  when  they  refute  it,  and 
I  am  pretty  sure  it  would  never  suit  me.  I  won't 
take  it,  I  thank  you,"  said  she,  rising  in  haste  to 
go- 

"I  suppose,"  said  Mrs.  Dunmore,  looking  sig- 
nificantly at  Blanche,  "we  shall  have  a  Catholic 
wedding  in  the  country  soon.  I  hope  I  shall  see 
it;  it  would  be  such  an  odd  kind  of  a  novelty." 

"La,  me!  yes,"  added  Mrs.  Catesby;  "and  all 
in  Latin,  too.  How  does  one  know  when  to  say 
yes,  or  draw  the  glove?  Oh,  gracious!  I  should 
be  frightened  half  to  death! — but  good  morning, 
good  morning — we  must  drive  over  to  the  Oak- 
lands  now,  and  tell  Mrs.  Herbert  the  news." 

That  evening  Corinne,  with  little  Irene  for  a 


THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY.  203 


companion,  was  sauntering  along  the  beach. 
Corinne  had  a  small  book  which  she  read,  and 
said  her  beads  alternately,  and  the  child  amused 
herself  by  gathering  the  bright  shells  and  scraps 
of  mother-of-pearl  which  glittered  among  the 
white  sands.  They  had  not  been  long  there 
when  ]\Ir.  Leslie,  who  appeared  to  be  hurried  as 
he  approached,  joined  Corinne  and  informed  her 
that  Evelyn  Herbert  was  at  the  house  and  ear- 
nestly requested  an  intervicAV  with  her  on  busi- 
ness of  a  delicate  nature. 

''Father,''  said  Corinne,  "if  his  visit  is  any 
other  than  a  friendly  one  I  cannot  see  him.  I 
do  not  wish  to  converse  with  him,  even,  unless 
the  rest  of  the  family  are  present." 

'']\Iy  dear,  when  I  inform  you  that  he  has  re- 
quested my  permission  to  address  you,  I  hope 
you  will  change  your  mind,"  said  ]\Ir.  LesUe,  ser- 
iously. 

''Has  he  dared!"  she  exclaimed,  with  flushed 
cheeks,  and  turning  her  flashing  eyes  full  in  her 
father's  face;  ''I  thought  I  had  been  sufficiently 
explicit  with  ]vlr.  Herbert  on  that  point.'' 

"Has  he  ever  mentioned  the  subject  to  you, 
my  daughter?  If  so,  why  such  repugnance?  for, 
on  my  honor,  such  an  alliance  ought  not  to  be 
trifled  with,"  said  ]\Ir.  Leslie. 

"Yes,  sir,''  she  replied,  more  gently;  "]\Ir.  Her- 
bert honored  me  some  weeks  ago  by  offering  me 
his  hand,  an  honor  which  I  decidedly  declined. 


204 


THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


and  you  will,  if  you  please,  see  him  on  our  return, 
and  say  that  my  determination  is  unalterable." 

"Cora,"  said  Mr.  LesHe,  taking  Irene  in  his 
arms,  as  they  turned  homeward,  ''this  is  a  match 
which  above  all  others  would  please  me.  I  have 
watched  the  upward  and  splendid  progress  of 
that  boy  for  years,  and  secretly  wished  that  I 
might  one  day  or  other  have  the  honor  of  cahing 
him — son.  Young,  handsome,  moral  and  re- 
fined in  manners  as  he  is  elegant  in  taste,  with  a 
reputation  unequalled  in  the  state  for  everything 
that  is  noble  and  excellent,  I  can  really  discover 
but  one  reasonable  objection  you  could  possibly 
have,  and  that  is  the  difference  in  your  religion." 

''Religion!  Alas!"  said  Corinne.  "Father,  I 
will  see  him  on  one  condition,  and  that  is  that 
you  may  be  present.  I  would  have  you  hear  him 
answer  one  or  two  questions  which  I  intend  pro- 
posing to  him ;  t/ien,  if  you  still  persevere  in  your 
wishes  concerning  the  alliance,  why  " 

"My  beloved  child,"  said  Mr.  LesHe,  inter- 
rupting her  hastily,  "do  not  misunderstand  me. 
As  much  disappointed  as  I  may  feel  in  case  you 
refuse  so  brilliant  an  offer,  yet  not  for  the  dower 
of  a  kingdom  would  I  put  force  on  your  inclina- 
tions, or  compel  you  to  bestow  your  hand  unless 
your  whole  heart  accompanied  it." 

"Thank  you — thank  you,  dear  father,"  said 
Corinne,  kissing  the  hand  she  held;  "then  all  my 
doubts  and  fears  are  over." 


THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY.  205 


Little  Irene  was  sent  to  Blanche,  and  Corinne, 
with  cheeks  glowing  Hke  a  fresh  rose,  and  her 
eyes  sparkling  with  health  and  the  excitement 
of  her  long  walk,  entered  the  drawing-room 
leaning  on  her  father's  arm.  Herbert  ap- 
proached and  would  have  taken  her  hand,  but 
with  a  stately  mien  and  calm  exterior  she  re- 
pulsed his  familiarity,  and,  passing  on,  seated 
herself  near  a  table  covered  with  a  number  of  ex- 
quisite foreign  toys  and  a  few  splendidly  bound 
books.  After  a  constrained  and  awkward  con- 
versation, which  lasted  only  a  few  minutes,  Her- 
bert requested  the  honor  of  a  private  interview 
with  her. 

''I  have  no  secrets  from  my  father,  Mr.  Her- 
bert," she  rephed,  coldly.  ''I  will  not  affect  to 
misunderstand  the  object  of  your  visit.  You 
have  gained  my  father's  permission  to  address 
me,  notwithstanding  the  positive  interdict  I  laid 
on  such  a  course;  and  in  his  presence,  therefore, 
I  prefer  hearing  what  you  have  to  say,  as  I  have 
in  turn  one  or  two  questions  to  ask  you,  which  I 
trust,  on  your  honor  as  a  man,  you  will  answer." 

'This  is  a  most  unusual  proceeding.  Miss  Les- 
lie," he  replied,  ''and  I  could  wish  it  otherwise, 
but  be  it  as  you  say."  Then,  leaning  over  her 
chair,  he  told  his  love  in  such  a  winning  tone  of 
eloquence,  and  w^itli  such  sincere  expressions  of 
devotion,  that  Mr.  Leslie,  who  marked  his  coun- 
tenance, which,  filled  with  manly  beauty  and 


206  THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 

every  indication  of  a  superior  intellect,  fluctu- 
ated between  his  hopes  and  fears,  wondered  if  it 
was  possible  that  Corinne  could  reject  one  who, 
being  the  most  splendid  match  in  all  the  country 
round,  was  the  cynosure  of  every  eye.  But  she 
heard  his  protestations  and  promises  coldly. 
Once  only  a  deep  flush  dyed  her  white  forehead 
and  crimsoned  her  cheeks,  but  this  was  all,  and 
no  change  or  emotion  of  any  kind  passed  over 
her  face.  When  the  low  murmur  of  his  voice 
was  stilled,  and  he  stood  by  her  side  with  his 
arms  folded  on  his  breast,  waiting  with  feverish 
anxiety  for  her  reply,  she  said: 

''Mr.  Herbert,  I  cannot  imagine  the  motive 
from  which  you  again  venture  to  speak  to  me  on 
this  subject  after  what  has  already  passed.  How- 
ever, I  suppose  I  must  feel  honored  by  your  pro- 
posals, which  I  again  decidedly  decline.  But  in 
justice  to  myself,  and  to  ward  ofif  the  accusation 
of  unnecessary  coldness  or  hauteur  towards  you, 
you  must  aflow  me  the  privilege  of  asking  you 
one  or  two  questions,  which  I  call  on  you  as  a 
man  of  honor  to  answer  without  equivocation. 
Do  you  believe  in  the  revealed  truths  of  relig- 
ion?" 

"Really,"  he  replied,  wincing  at  the  question, 
"this  is  very  singular.  However,  I  confess  that 
I  do  not  profess  the  doctrines  of  any  peculiar 
creed.  Like  your  father,  Mr.  Leslie,  I  have  not 
yet  found  a  religion  to  suit  my  beau  ideal,  but,  on 


THE  SISTER  OF  CHAR  ITT. 


207 


my  honor,  I  feel  the  utmost  Hberality  towards 
all" 

''Your  evasion  is  ingenious,  sir,"  said  Corinne; 
"but  you  must  have  been  out  of  the  neighbor- 
hood or  you  would  have  heard  ere  this  that  not 
only  my  father,  but  my  sister  and  myself,  have 
found  a  relioion  which  answers  our  most  sublime 
and  sanguine  hopes.    We  are  Catholics." 

''Catholics!"  he  exclaimed,  starting.  "True; 
I  have  been  to  Charleston,  and  only  returned  last 
night.    I  congratulate  you,  upon  my  honor." 

"Spare  your  ironical  congratulations,"  replied 
Corinne,  "and  answer  my  question.  Do  you 
believe  in  the  revealed  truths  of  religion?" 

"My  dear  i\Iiss  Leslie,  give  me  but  the  faintest 
reason  to  hope  that  at  some  future  day  I  may 
win  your  hand,  and  I  pledge  you  my  word  as  a 
gentleman  that  your  religion  shall  never  be  in- 
terfered with.  On  the  contrary,  every  facility 
shall  be  afforded  for  your  innocent  devotions 
which  may  lie  in  my  power." 

"Sir,"  she  said,  indignantly,  "answer  me.  Do 
you  believe  in  God?  Do  you  believe  in  his  re- 
vealed Word,  or  is  it  only  when  heated  by  wine 
that  you  declare  yourself  an — atheist?" 

"Evelyn,"  said  'Mr.  Leslie,  approaching  and 
taking  the  young  man's  hand  within  his  own, 
"answer  truly,  I  implore  you.  I  could  never  con- 
sent to  wed  my  daughter  with  one  who  professed 
so  dark  and  hopeless  a  philosophy  as  this.  On 


208  TEE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


your  honor  as  a  man — by  the  happiness  of  her 
you  love,  and  by  the  peace  of  these  gray  hairs,  I 
command  you  to  reply  without  equivocation." 

'Thus  adjured,  I  will,  though  it  sever  every 
fibre  of  my  heart.  I  am  what  doctors  of  divinity 
call  an  atheist,"  he  repKed,  with  quivering  lip; 
''and  for  this  you  spurn  me,  Corinne — you,  who 
might,  if  I  am  wrong,  win  me  from  error  and 
mould  me  as  you  would.  But  could  I  hope  that, 
notwithstanding  all,  there  is  some  hidden  pulse 
of  your  heart  which  pulsates  for  me,  that  my 
principles  are  the  only  barrier  between  us,  it 
would  in  no  slight  degree  reconcile  me  to  my 
fate." 

"Do  not  deceive  or  flatter  yourself  with  re- 
gard to  my  concealed  feelings.  I  assure  you 
that,  although  your  atheistical  principles  are  an 
insuperable  objection,  there  are  other  things, 
which  fou  are  conscious  of,  and  among  them  a 
want  of  that  preference  on  my  part  towards  you 
which  is  so  essentially  necessary  to  wedded  hap- 
piness. But  I  have  already  said  more  than  I  an- 
ticipated; let  us  end  this  conversation,  which 
has  been  so  painful  to  us  both,"  said  Corinne. 

"And  are  all  the  hopes  of  my  lifetime  to  be 
thus  in  a  moment  crushed?  all  the  bright  visions 
which  lured  me  onward  in  the  path  of  fame  to 
melt  away  forever?  Corinne — Miss  Leslie — 
unsay  your  words;  bid  me  hope  that  the  coyness 
of  modesty  dictated  those  expressions  which 


THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


^09 


have  so  wounded  me;  say  but  one  word — reach 
me  your  hand  in  token  that  you  will  grant  me  the 
boon  I  ask — for,  alas!  it  will  be  like  tearing  the 
chords  of  life  asunder  to  give  you  up!"  he  ex- 
claimed, passionately. 

''Mr.  Herbert,"  said  Corinne,  calmly,  while 
tears  trickled  over  her  now  pale  cheeks,  ''I  pity 
you — forgive  the  expression — but  I  pity  you. 
There  are  many  fairer  and  better  in  this  world 
than  I — seek  a  mate  among  them;  and  oh,  sir! 
let  me  beseech  you  by  all  you  hold  sacred  to  give 
up  all  those  things  which  are  stamping  Svan  ruin' 
on  your  soul.  I  will  pray  for  you,  my  father  will 
pray  for  you,  and  Blanche  and  Edgar,  too,  that 
you  may  return  to  God,  to  your  Father's  house, 
to  Him  who  gave  you  all  those  splendid  gifts, 
which  you  seem  madly  determined  to  enthrall 
in  the  iron  subjection  of  your  gloomy  and  soul- 
destroying  creed." 

"You  reject  me,  then,  entirely?"  he  said, 
gloomily. 

"I  do,  and  decidedly,"  she  answered,  calmly. 

'Then,  Miss  Leslie,  farewell — forever!"  he 
said,  snatching  her  hand  and  pressing  it  for  a 
moment  to  his  lips;  then,  wringing  Mr.  Leslie's, 
rushed  from  the  house.  The  next  morning  he 
was  on  his  way  to  Washington. 

A  few  evenings  after  the  Sister  of  Charity, 
with  Blanche  and  Corinne,  were  sitting  with 
their  work-baskets  around  the  lamp,  when  Mr. 


210 


THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


Leslie,  Edgar  and  Father  Borgia,  entering, 
joined  the  group  in  time  to  hear  that  the  ladies 
were  discussing  the  event.  Corinne  changed 
color  and  would  have  discontinued  the  subject, 
but  Edgar  seemed  disposed  to  banter  her  and 
made  some  observation  to  that  effect. 

''Really,  my  dear,"  said  Mr.  LesHe,  "among 
friends  you  need  not  shrink  from  the  subject;  I, 
for  one,  honor  you  for  your  courage." 

''And  I,"  said  Father  Borgia,  "for  resisting 
splendid  temptation." 

"Well,"  said  Blanche,  "I  dare  say  you  were 
right,  dearest  Cora;  but  how  could  you  be  so  cold 
and  cruel?  I  am  glad  my  feelings  never  had  to 
pass  through  such  an  ordeal." 

"By  which  you  mean  to  be  very  complimen- 
tary to  me,"  said  Edgar,  laughing;  "however,  I 
confess  that  Herbert  would  prove  a  dangerous 
rival." 

"I  think,  or  rather  fear,  that  our  single  daugh- 
ter will  be  very  fastidious  in  her  choice  of  a  hus- 
band," said  Mr.  Leslie;  "but  what  says  she?  not 
a  word?  not  a  smile?  And,  is  it  possible?  Can 
those  be  tears?  Why,  my  child,  what  mean 
they?  Believe  me,  I  meant  no  reflection  on 
your  conduct  of  last  week,  which  I  now  highly 
approve.  I  assure  you,  that  so  much  confidence 
have  I  in  your  good  sense  and  judgment,  that 
your  choice,  whoever  it  may  hereafter  be,  has  al- 
ready my  approval." 


THE  8I8TER  OF  CHARITY. 


211 


"My  choice  is  already  made,"  said  Corinne,  in 
a  low  voice. 

"Aha!  this  is  something  new,"  said  Mr.  Leslie, 
starting,  while  all  looked  astonished. 

"My  dear  father  and  friends,"  said  she,  recov- 
ering her  serenity,  "you  may  think  me  an  enthusi- 
ast when  I  tell  you  more  concerning  this  choice, 
which,  I  assure  you,  is  irrevocably  made.  I  wish 
to  be  numbered  among  the  holy  daughters  of  St. 
Vincent  de  Paul." 

"Father,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Leslie,  "you  knew  of 
this!" 

"I  did,  sir;  but  Miss  Leslie  will  acquit  me  of 
suggesting  the  idea  to  her,"  he  rephed. 

"Or  even  encouraging  it,"  rephed  Corinne, 
smiling.  '*No,  Father  Borgia,  you  did  not  sug- 
gest the  idea,  certainly." 

"I  presume,  then,  that  you  owe  your  present 
sentiments  to  Sister  Therese,"  said  Mr.  Leslie, 
gravely. 

"No,  my  beloved  father;  only  in  an  indirect 
way.  He  who  suggested  it  is  not  mortal,  and 
whispers  daily,  with  a  still,  small  voice,  Leave  all 
thou  hast,  and  follow  Me.  He,  our  divine  Lord 
who  was  so  poor  on  earth  that  he  had  not  where 
to  lay  his  sacred  head,  invites  me  to  his  holy  pov- 
erty, and  by  every  eternal  consideration  urges 
me  to  suffer  with  him  through  his  suffering  mem- 
bers. Day  or  night  I  cannot  rest  for  wishing, 
in  the  practical  works  of  the  Sisters  of  Charity, 


212  THE  SI8TER  OF  CHARITY, 


to  imitate  and  follow  him,  through  poverty,  hu- 
miliations and  death.  Oh,  father!  dear  father! 
you  would  have  bestowed  me  on  one  who  per- 
chance would  have  made  my  Hfe  miserable  and 
my  eternity  terrible;  you  would  have  given  me 
unreservedly  to  one  who,  while  he  could  have 
placed  me  in  a  high  and  brilliant  position,  would 
have  made  me  almost  a  stranger  in  my  own 
home;  and  would  you  refuse  my  poor  services  to 
our  Lord,  to  Him  who  will  bless  the  sacrifice  and 
in  the  end  give  me,  in  exchange  for  a  crown  of 
thorns,  a  crown  of  imperishable  glory,  and  for  a 
coarse  robe,  a  garment  of  righteousness ;  who  will 
cause  the  blood  and  dust  to  be  wiped  from  my 
pilgrim  feet,  and  have  placed  thereon  sandals  of 
rest!  Let  me  go,  my  father — let  me  be  nearer 
the  cross — let  me  walk  with  our  Lord  among  the 
poor  " 

"Corinne,"  said  Mr.  Leslie,  interrupting  her, 
"come  hither,  my  child;  let  me  feel  your  forehead 
and  hands;  you  look  feverish.  There,  sit  here, 
near  me;  but  no,  your  forehead  and  hands  are 
cool;  your  cheeks  have  no  fever  in  their  glow.  But 
tell  me,  is  this  a  momentary  flash  of  enthusiasm, 
or  the  result  of  calm  and  deliberate  reflection? 
Would  you  leave  me,  now  that  my  hair  is  whiten- 
ing with  age?  Could  you  depart  from  your  sis- 
ter, from  whom  you  have  never  been  separated  a 
day,  and  consent  to  behold  no  more  the  home  of 
your  childhood,  or  visit  no  more  the  grave  of 


THE  SISTER   OE  CHAEITY. 


213 


that  mother  who  died  in  giving  you  birth?  Cor- 
inne,  could  these  soft,  deHcate  hands,  which  even 
the  harp-strings  scar,  which  have  never  per- 
formed a  more  arduous  duty  than  tending  the 
flowers — think  you.  my  child,  that  they  could 
toil  from  morn  till  night?  or  think  you.  that  form 
as  delicate  and  fragile  as  a  lily's,  could  spend 
whole  nights  in  a  hospital  ward,  tending  poor 
wretches,  who  are.  perhaps,  dying  with  pesti- 
lence. deHrium  or  infectious  fever?*' 

"Almighty  God  will  give  his  servant 
strength,"  replied  Corinne. 

'''Could  those  tiny  feet."  continued  Mr.  LesHe, 
''''which  weary  with  the  fatigues  of  a  single  dance, 
endure  the  painful  hardships  of  days,  months, 
years?  And  this  dear  head."  said  Air.  Leslie, 
drawing  her  head  to  his  breast,  while  big  tears 
rolling  from  his  eyes  fell  on  it.  "which  has  ever 
been  pillowed  in  peace,  and  rested  thus  daily  on 
your  father's  breast  or  in  your  sister's  arms, 
which,  when  it  ached  or  felt  weary  and  heavy, 
knew  the  hands  which  could  soothe  its  distress — 
say.  my  child,  how  could  it  rest  among  strangers? 
Who  would  soothe  its  pain?  Who  regard  its 
burning?  Who  care  for  its  heaviness,  my  beau- 
tiful one?" 

"Father,  dear,  you  but  give  expression  to 
thoughts  which  have  before  troubled  and 
tempted  me — thoughts  which  are  but  the  de- 
mands of  nature:  and  are  not  the  demands  of 


214 


THE  SI8TEB  OF  CHARITY. 


nature  too  often  opposed  to  the  grace  of  God? 
Everything,  therefore,  that  is  contrary  to  His 
holy  will  comes  from  no  doubtful  source,"  said 
Corinne,  calmly.  "1  have  been,  it  is  true,  a  Cath- 
olic but  a  few  weeks;  it  was  only  a  few  days  ago 
that  I  received  for  the  first  time  the  communion 
of  the  body  and  blood  of  our  Lord,  and  yet  it 
seems  an  age;  it  is  new,  and  yet  it  seems  old;  and 
as  unaccountable  as  it  may  appear,  this  desire  or 
vocation  feels  Hke  some  old,  familiar  emotion, 
like  a  long,  steady  progress  to  one  point.  I  care 
not  for  the  world,  and  my  body — it  is  but  dust, 
animated  by  an  immortal  spirit,  which,  like  it, 
cannot  ^ink  into  a  state  of  annihilation;  there- 
fore, when  He  who  gave  me  this  life  now  claims 
it  for  his  service,  how  can  I — how  dare  I — refuse 
so  small,  so  insignificant  a  thing,  particularly 
when  I  am  assured  that  my  services,  no  matter 
how  long,  how  self-denying,  or  how  great,  will 
never  be  commensurate  with  the  exceeding 
great  reward  which  will  await  me?" 

"Are  such  things  required  of  us?"  said  Mr. 
Leslie  to  Father  Borgia,  with  an  expression  of 
great  anxiety. 

''When  God  demands  them,  certainly,"  he  re- 
plied.  ''But  why  regard  that  as  a  sacrifice  by 
which  you  honor  Him  and  do  service  to  Him, 
while  at  the  same  time  it  gives  you  an  opportun- 
ity of  gaining  merit  and  grace  for  yourself?" 

Blanche  wept.    Sister  Therese  was  silent,  but 


TEE  SISTER  OF  CSARITY.  215 


her  usually  calm,  pale  face  was  lit  up  with  an  ex- 
pression of  intense  satisfaction.  Edgar  looked 
serious  and  puzzled,  while  Corinne's  countenance 
was  the  only  happy  one  of  the  group. 

"I\Iy  dear  father/''  she  continued,,  "you  will 
have  Blanche  and  Edgar  always  with  you,  and 
you  know  you  could  come  and  see  me  occasion- 
ally; and  even  I,  if  I  find  I  have  not  a  vocation  or 
become  dissatisfied,  can  leave  the  order  at  the 
expiration  of  a  year.  Only  see  how  many  advan- 
tages you  will  have,  notwithstanding  all." 

"But,  Cora,"  said  Edgar,  '"would  it  not  be  bet- 
ter, or  more  wise,  to  postpone  the  matter  until 
your  vocation  is  put  a  little  to  the  test?" 

"Father  Borgia  has  advised  me  to  wait  a  year, 
which  I  intend  doing;  then,  my  dear  father,  you 
will  give  me  without  reserve  to  the  service  of  our 
Lord,  will  you  not?  I  scarcely  know  why  I  com- 
menced this  subject  to-night,  but  it  is  perhaps  as 
well.  You  are  all  now  prepared  for  an  event 
which,  if  I  live,  will  assuredly  take  place." 

"Ah.  well  I"  said  ^Ir.  Leslie,  sighing,  "a  year's 
probation  is  something,  and  yet  I  hope  nothing 
from  it  but  your  prolonged  stay  among  us  dur- 
ing the  time.  I  know  your  decision  of  character 
and  firmness  of  purpose  too  well,  my  dear,  to  ex- 
pect you  to  change,  particularly  on  a  point  to 
which  the  inspiration  of  religion  has  led  you. 
But  your  vacant  place  will  never  be  filled  by  my 
hearth,  my  darling,  when  you  leave  me,  and  I, 


216  THE  8I8TER  OF  CHARITY. 

shall  mourn  your  absence  as  if  you  were  already 
an  inhabitant  of  yonder  heaven." 

''Dear  father,"  said  Corinne,  regarding  him 
with  a  look  of  unspeakable  affection,  and  brush- 
ing from  her  cheeks  a  single  tear  which  rolled 
over  them,  ''the  trial  is,  I  know,  one  of  magni- 
tude to  you,  but  our  good  God  will  give  you 
strength  and  grace  to  bear  it.    Edgar,  you  were 

in  E  to  day;  did  you  hear  anything  of  Mr. 

Forrester?" 

"Truly  did  I,"  he  repHed;  "he  is  as  much,  if  not 
more,  the  subject  of  conversation  than  we  our- 
selves among  the  polite  circles  in  E  .  I 

called  on  him  to  console  and  congratulate  him, 
and  found  him  one  of  the  most  interesting  men 
I  ever  met  with." 

"Ah!"  said  Mr.  Leslie,  to  whom  a  change  of 
conversation  seemed  a  relief;  "what  are  his  pros- 
pects?" 

"In  a  pecuniary  point  of  view,  gloomy  enough; 
but  he  is  cheerful  and  happy,  trusting  in  that 
promise  which  says,  'Seek  first  the  kingdom  of 
heaven,  and  all  these  things  shall  be  added  to 
you;'  but,  if  I  had  dared,  how  gladly  would  I  have 
offered  him  assistance,"  he  replied. 

"Does  he  intend  remaining  in  E  ?"  in- 
quired Mr.  Leslie. 

"No,  sir;  he  goes  in  a  day  or  two  towards  the 
north,  where,  I  suppose,  he  will  become  an  in- 
mate of  some  seminary,"  said  Edgar. 


THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY.  217 


"Such  is  his  purpose.  Through  the  influence 
of  the  Bishop  of  Charleston,  Bishop  E — — ,  he 
has  received  the  most  hospitable  and  friendly  in- 
vitations from  the  superior  of  a  theological  sem- 
inary in  New  York,  whither  he  intends  going. 
If  he  does  not  study  for  the  priesthood  his  in- 
tellectual acquirements  will  obtain  for  him  a  class 
or  tw^o  in  some  Hterary  institution,  which  will 
yield  him  a  moderate  income.  But  is  it  not  the 
hour  for  evening  prayer,  my  children?"  said 
Father  Borgia,  as  the  little  musical  clock  on  the 
mantel  chimed  eleven. 

The  next  day  Mr.  Forrester  was  surprised  by 
receiving  a  small  package  containing  five  hun- 
dred dollars.  There  was  no  clue  by  which  he 
could  trace  the  gift  back  to  the  generous  donor, 
the  paper  in  which  it  was  wrapped  containing 
only  these  words,  written  in  a  strange  hand, 
''From  a  friend."  A  day  or  two  after,  being  in- 
vited to  spend  a  week  at  Elverton  Hall,  he  men- 
tioned the  circumstance  at  dinner.  Mr.  Leslie's 
face  became  slightly  flushed  as  it  was  commented 
on,  and  Edgar,  who  w^as  examining  the  piece  of 
paper  on  which  the  words  were  inscribed,  de- 
tected at  once  his  uncle's  handwriting,  but,  ap- 
preciating both  the  delicacy  and  humihty  which 
thus  proffered  the  gift,  he  remained  silent,  and 
did  not  reveal  his  discovery  in  any  w^ay  or  to  any 
one,  except  by  an  eloquent  glance  at  his  uncle, 
which  he  understood. 


218  THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

"Where  is  the  tree  the  prophet  threw 
Into  the  bitter  wave? 
Left  it  no  scion  where  it  grew, 
The  fainting  soul  to  save?" 

FREQUENT  and  long  were  the  conversa- 
tions which  Mr.  Leslie  had  with  Corinne 
on  the  subject  of  her  vocation  for  a  relig- 
ious life,  and  although  he  could  not  reconcile  all 
his  preconceived  ideas  on  the  point  as  yet  with 
a  long,  long  separation  from  the  child  he  so  de- 
votedly loved,  she  had,  by  her  steadiness  of  pur- 
pose, her  humble  piety  and  cheerful  hopefulness 
of  manner,  so  familiarized  him  with  it  that  he 
now  always  conversed  calmly  and  almost  re- 
signedly on  the  subject.  The  two,  Blanche  and 
Corinne,  were  woven  in,  as  it  were,  with  one  pro- 
found sentiment  of  affection  in  his  heart;  he 
never  thought  of  one  separate  from  the  other;  he 
never  felt  a  joy  that  was  not  shared  by  both,  and 
could  not  resist  the  idea  that  in  parting  them 
he  would  lose  both,  or,  dividing  it,  a  portion,  if 
not  all,  would  be  destroyed. 


THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


219 


''Surely  you  do  not  doubt  my  love  for  you,  my 
dear  father?"  said  Corinne,  one  day. 

"y^o,  my  child,,  not  exactly  that;  but  hereto- 
fore I  have  been  the  first  in  your  affections,  and 
it  appears  to  me  that  in  a  rehgious  life  you  will 
become  so  thoroughly  dead  to  the  world  and  all 
human  endearments  that  I  shah  hold  but  a  sec- 
ondary place  in  your  regard,"  replied  i\Ir.  Leslie. 

"Father,"  said  Corinne,  ''in  forgetting  you  I 
should  be  a  monster  of  ingratitude,  which  heaven 
itself  would  spurn.  No!  Almighty  God  requires 
not  an  annihilation  of  those  dear  ties  which  he 
himself  has  formed  and  sanctioned;  he  only  de- 
mands a  subserviency  of  them  to  his  divine  pur- 
poses. He  sometimes  honors  us  by  demanding 
our  services,  insignificant  and  poor  though  they 
be,  for  the  advancement  of  his  honor  and  glory, 
which,  while  they  involve  some  few  sacrifices,  and 
put  our  faith  to  severe  tests,  neither  sanction  a 
forgetfulness  of  the  authors  of  our  being,  or  the 
want  of  a  proper  degree  of  love  towards  them." 

"In  such  a  case,  my  dear,  how  do  you  define  a 
proper  degree  of  love?"  asked  Mr.  Leslie. 

"A  degree  of  affection  which,  though  neces- 
sarily great  and  strong,  should  be  inferior  to  the 
love  and  duty  we  feel  and  owe  to  God,  which, 
yielding  with  ready  obedience  to  his  commands, 
leaz'es  all  to  follow  him,  and  trembles  at  the  sen- 
tence which  declares  that  if  we  love  father  or 
mother  more  than  Christ  he  will  disown  us  in  the  , 


220  THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY, 


hour  of  judgment  before  the  angels  of  heaven — 
which  seeks  after  righteousness  as  the  first  of  all, 
and  over  all  considerations,  and,  unfettered,  runs 
after  the  blessings  which  are  promised  to  the 
'poor  in  spirit,'  to  'those  that  mourn,'  and  to  the 
meek,"  said  Corinne,  while  her  face  was  irradi- 
ated with  the  animation  of  her  feelings. 

''But  you  seem  to  bestow  no  thought  on  the 
keen  wound  which  will  be  inflicted  on  my  finest 
parental  emotions  by  the  loss  of  your  society, 
and  in  the  reflection  that  while  I  am  sheltered  in 
the  sweet  sanctuary  of  home  and  enjoying  its  re- 
pose and  luxuries,  you,  who  have  been  so  deli- 
cately nursed,  may  perchance  be  exposed  to 
hardships  unaccustomed  and  hard  to  bear,  and 
perhaps  to  the  poison  of  pestilential  disease. 
Does  not  the  ordeal  cause  you  to  shrink  and 
tremble,  my  child?"  said  Mr.  LesHe. 

"Father,  you  have  read  of  those  three  Hebrew 
boys  who,  because  they  refused  to  worship  a 
golden  idol,  were  cast  into  an  ordeal  of  fire,  the 
heat  of  which  was  so  intense  that  those  who  ap- 
proached fell  scorched  to  the  earth,  and  how 
God,  to  protect  and  comfort  them,  sent  his  an- 
gels to  walk  with  them  through  the  flames,  and 
how,  all  unharmed  and  unscathed,  they  rejoiced 
in  their  midst  and  sung  praises  to  God?  Do  you 
recollect  it,  dear  father?"  asked  Corinne,  while  a 
tear  flashed  for  a  moment  in  her  eyes,  then  fell 
trembling  to  the  ground. 


TEE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY,  221 


*'I  do,"  he  replied,  unable  to  say  more. 

"That  same  God,  my  father,  will  also  protect 
and  strengthen  me,  the  weakest  of  his  servants; 
but,  dear  sir,  w^hen  we  offer  anything  to  God,  we 
must  offer  it  entirely  and  without  reserve.  Make 
up  your  mind  now  to  do  so  with  regard  to  me, 
and  I  venture  to  affirm  that,  so  far  from  feeling 
all  those  anxieties  and  distractions  which  you 
dread,  you  will  be  rewarded  by  an  interior  tran- 
quility and  entire  confidence  in  the  care  and 
goodness  of  God  which  you  never  before  experi- 
enced," she  replied. 

feel  that  I  am  perhaps  ungenerous,  and  also 
selfish,  towards  that  God  to  whom  I  am  indebted 
for  every  blessing  and  good  gift,  and  therefore 
not  acting  in  accordance  with  the  holy  spirit  of  our 
religion;  but,  my  child,  nature  has  ever  warred 
with  grace,  and  although  grace  urges  me  to  give 
up  every  objection  in  your  favor,  nature,  with  all 
her  sweet  ties  and  eloquent  influences,  overpow- 
ers the  rest.  Pray  for  me,  and  I  will  pray,  my 
dear  daughter,  that  grace,  which  comes  alone 
from  God,  may  be  granted  to  me  to  act  in  this 
matter  according  to  his  will.  But,"  continued 
Mr.  Leslie,  as  if  afraid  he  had  conceded  too  much, 
"there  is  one  condition  to  which  you  must  agree 
ere  I  can  give  you  the  result  of  my  final  deter- 
mination on  this  point." 

"Name  it,  father,"  said  Corinne;  "I  am  sure 
you  will  require  nothing  of  me  which  is  inconsist-* 
ent  with  my  wishes." 


222 


THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


"I  will.  The  time,  as  you  know,  which  was 
appointed  for  the  marriage  of  your  sister  is  now 
near  at  hand;  a  few  weeks  longer  and  she  will  be 
the  wife  of  Edgar.  Instead  of  making  a  bridal 
tour,  as  we  at  first  intended,  through  the  north- 
ern states^  we  have  determined,  in  company  with 
Blanche,  yourself,  and  your  pet,  Irene,  if  you 
choose,  to  travel  a  year  in  Europe,  You  will 
then  see  the  world,  with  its  splendid  monuments 
of  man's  ingenuity  and  greatness,  and  hear  the 
musical  hubbub  of  its  pleasures  and  mark  the  so- 
cial happiness  of  its  denizens;  and  although,  my 
child,  I  neither  wish  nor  expect  you  to  partake 
of  its  pleasures  or  engage  in  its  vain  amusements, 
I  do  wish  you  to  make  use  of  the  opportunity  in 
a  calm  and  deliberate  manner,  and  let  the  result 
of  your  observations  decide  in  the  affair,"  replied 
her  father. 

"This  is  a  trial  at  which  I  should  perhaps  trem- 
ble," said  Corinne,  meekly;  ''but,  trusting  in  God, 
I  accept  it  as  one  of  the  'splinters  of  the  cross,' 
which  they  who  love  Him  are  expected  to  bear. 
I  agree,  with  all  due  submission,  my  dear  father, 
to  your  proposition,  hoping  that  at  the  end  of 
the  appointed  time  you  will  no  longer  throw  an 
obstacle  in  my  way." 

"If  at  the  expiration  of  the  year  spent  in  trav- 
elling," said  Mr.  Leslie,  "you  still  persevere  in 
your  determination  to  become  a  Sister  of  Char- 
ity, then,  my  child,  as  much  as  it  will  cost  me,  I 


THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


223 


will  give  you  up  without  reserve  to  the  life  to 
which  I  believe  you  are  called." 

'Thank  you,  thank  you,  my  kind,  dear  father,'* 
said  Corinne,  quietly  brushing  off  a  tear;  ''God 
will  reward  you  with  tenfold  blessings." 

"We  will  now  consider  the  affair  as  finally  dis- 
posed of,"  said  he,  with  an  almost  imperceptible 
quivering  of  his  Hp,  "and  change  the  subject." 

"Who  will  take  charge  of  your  affairs  while  we 
are  travelling,  sir?" 

"Edgar  is  in  treaty  with  the  protege  of  Evelyn 
Herbert,  Willie  Stevens,  whom,  no  doubt,  you 
remember.  I  am  told  that  he  is  pious,  prudent, 
industrious  and  quite  capable  of  attending  to  all 
my  ordinary  business,  which  I  can  readily  believe, 
both  from  my  own  observation  and  the  testi- 
mony of  persons  who  have  known  him  from  his 
boyhood." 

"I  hope  Father  Borgia  remains?" 

"Yes;  he  will  remain  six  months  longer,  and  if 
he  gets  the  permission  of  his  superiors  in  the 
meantime,  until  we  return.     The  bishop  of 

C          has  invited  him  into  his  diocese,  but  in 

consequence  of  this  and  another  arrangement  he 
respectfully    declined.      He    intends  assisting 

the  clergyman  in  E  in  the  arduous  duties  of 

a  mission,  which  is  thirty  miles  distant,  where 
the  people,  poor  and  ignorant,  and  without  a 
regular  pastor,  are  in  danger  of  forgetting  the 
practices  of  their  religion." 


224 


THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


''Has  this  mission  been  long  unattended  to?" 
asked  Corinne. 

''It  has  not  been  entirely  neglected;  but,  as 

'you  know,  the  reverend  gentleman  in  E   has 

a  large  and  troublesome  charge  of  his  own,  and 
is  not,  in  consequence,  able  to  visit  those  poor 
creatures  often,"  he  replied. 

They  were  interrupted  by  the  entrance  of  Ed- 
gar St.  Johns,  who  looked  pale  and  agitated,  and 
held  an  open  newspaper  in  his  hand.  He  sat 
down  without  speaking,  and,  leaning  his  elbow 
on  the  table,  rested  his  forehead  on  his  hand. 

"Are  you  not  well,  Edgar?"  said  Mr.  Leslie. 

"Yes,  sir;  yes,  quite  well,"  he  rephed,  glancing 
uneasily  at  Corinne. 

"You  are  disturbed,  Edgar,"  she  said,  observ- 
ing it;  "has  anything  unusual  occurred?" 

"Nothing  personal — an  old  friend — an  old 
playmate — but  I  cannot  express  myself — here, 
sir,  do  you  read  the  melancholy  news,"  he  said, 
handing  the  paper  to  his  uncle. 

"Gracious  God!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Leslie,  run- 
ning his  eyes  rapidly  over  the  paragraph  which 
was  pointed  out.  "Evelyn  Herbert!  Alas,  poor 
boy!  poor  boy!" 

"What  has  happened  to  our  friend,  dear 
father?"  inquired  Corinne,  anxiously;  "he  is  not 
dead?" 

Mr.  Leslie  reflected  a  moment  before  he 
handed  her  the  paper,  and  although  he  observed 


THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


225 


that  she  trembled  and  was  sHghtly  discomposed, 
he  was  assured  that  the  agitation  of  her  manner 
proceeded  alone  from  a  friendly  interest  in  all 
which  involved  the  happiness  of  the  family  at  the 
Oaklands.  Evelyn  Herbert  had  fought  a  duel. 
At  a  political  dinner  party  in  Washington,  which 
had  been  given  in  his  honor,  a  certain  measure  in 
which  he  was  much  interested  became  the  ab- 
sorbing topic  of  the  hour.  It  happened,  unfor- 
tunately, that  a  senator  from  the  north  was  in 
the  city  at  the  time,  who  was  also  invited  to  the 
dinner.  His  opinions  were  antagonistic  to  those 
of  Herbert,  but  he  held  them  confined  within  the 
bounds  of  courtesy  until  the  wine  circulated 
freely  and  turned  the  cool  current  of  reason  into 
a  torrent  of  fire,  which  consumed  not  only  the 
proprieties  of  social  life,  but  scorched  the  soul 
and  maddened  the  brain.  Bitter,  burning,  scald- 
ing words  passed  between  them;  opprobious  epi- 
thets, impugning  honor,  truth  and  courage,  were 
tossed  with  over-true  aim  from  one  to  the  other, 
until,  like  a  maniac,  Herbert  arose  and  dashed 
the  contents  of  his  goblet  into  the  face  of  his  op- 
ponent. Then  the  scene  beggared  description; 
friends  threw  themselves  between  the  two  rag- 
ing men,  but  not  before  Herbert  received  a  blow 
on  his  face,  which  in  a  moment  seemed  to  sober 
him.  He  became  instantly  calm,  and  his  coun- 
tenance was  terrible  with  its  concentrated  ex- 
pression of  rage  and  livid  whiteness,  and,  ex- 


226  THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


claiming  with  a  voice  which,  though  low  and 
scarcely  above  a  whisper,  was  heard  by  all  with 
startUng  distinctness,  "Sir,  blood  alone  can  wash 
from  my  cheek  the  pollution  of  your  touch,"  left 
the  room.  A  challenge  passed,  was  accepted, 
and,  notwithstanding  all  that  mutual  friends 
could  do  and  the  vigilance  of  the  police,  they  met 
on  the  fatal  ground  at  Bladensburg,  and,  horrible 
to  relate,  at  the  first  fire  Herbert's  antagonist 
fell  mortally  wounded,  while  he,  half  frantic  with 
remorse,  knelt  by  his  side,  and  in  a  few  moments 
saw  him  die,  murmuring  the  words  of,  ''My  wife! 
my  children!" 

Corinne  was  deeply  shocked,  and  sat  holding 
the  paper  in  silence,  while  her  cheeks  wore  the 
hue  of  marble.  At  last  tears  gathered  in  her 
eyes  and  slowly  trickled  over  her  face,  and  she 
exclaimed,  ''It  is  terrible!  it  is  terrible!  Oh, 
honor,  thou  veiled  prophet!  thou  phantom,  hid- 
ing misery  and  death  beneath  a  seductive  veil, 
how  many  hast  thou  lured  to  ruin!  That  is  no 
honor,  father,  which  makes  a  man  either  a  mur- 
derer or  a  suicide,  for  he  who  conquers  is  a  mur- 
derer; he  who  falls  dies  a  suicidal  death,  even 
while  his  intentions  are  murderous,  and  goes, 
sent  by  the  hand  of  one  equally  erring  with  him- 
self, into  the  awful  presence  of  an  offended  God. 
And  Evelyn  Herbert,  the  pride  of  his  native 
state,  is  a  murderer!  Oh,  God!  send  him  repen- 
tance, send  him  repentance,  until  he  is  driven  to 


THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


227 


thee,  and  pity  the  gray  hairs  on  which  he  has 
brought  this  heavy  grief!" 

"His  parents — alas  for  them!"  said  Mr.  Leslie, 
in  a  low  voice. 

"Shall  I  go  to  them,  father?"  said  Corinne,  ris- 
ing; his  mother,  I  am  sure,  is  nearly  broken- 
hearted.   Come,  Edgar,  come  with  me." 

"Would  it  not  be  better,  my  dear  Cora,  to  de- 
fer going  until  to-mororw?"  said  he,  gently. 

"No,"  she  said,  decidedly;  "with  my  father's 
consent  I  will  go  now.  You  know  she  has  no 
friend  near  her  except  the  judge,  and  I  presume 
he  is  too  much  troubled  himself  to  afford  her 
much  comfort.  It  is  my  duty  to  go,  Edgar;  you 
know  how  she  always  loved  me.  Shall  I  go, 
father?" 

"Yes,  my  noble  child,  and  I  will  go  with  you; 
you  teach  us  our  duty,"  replied  Mr.  Leslie. 

Throwing  on  her  hat  and  wrapping  a  shawl 
around  her,  Corinne  placed  her  hand  in  her 
father's  arm,  and  they  walked  rapidly  towards 
the  Oaklands.  Consternation  sat  on  every  face. 
Judge  Herbert,  with  his  arms  folded  on  his 
breast,  was  slowly  walking  to  and  fro  in  the  dark, 
deserted  hall,  and  when  he  saw  Mr.  LesHe 
grasped  his  hand  in  silence,  and  without  noticing 
Corinne  pointed  to  a  chair;  while  ever  and  anon 
the  most  piercing  shrieks  from  an  upper  cham- 
ber directed  her  to  the  bedside  of  the  frantic 
mother.    But  what  a  welcome  awaited  her!  As 


228 


TEE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


she  approached  the  bed,  and  would  have  taken 
Mrs.  Herbert's  hand,  she  turned  with  a  long, 
loud  cry,  away  from  her,  and  reproached  her  as 
the  cause  of  all  their  agony  in  terms  which  were 
bitter  and  hard  to  bear;  but,  without  speaking, 
she  knelt  by  the  bedside,  with  meek  patience  and 
sweetness,  to  pray  for  that  distracted  parent  who 
was  thus  severely  chastised.  Paroxysm  after 
paroxysm  of  misery  darkened  her  mind,  and  Cor- 
inne  might  as  well  have  whispered  to  the  whirl- 
wind, or  tried  to  stay  the  waves  of  the  sea,  as  to 
have  uttered  consolatory  words  to  her,  for,  toss- 
ing to  and  fro  on  her  bed,  she  tore  her  hair,  and 
cursed  the  hour  which  gave  birth  to  her  erring 
son.  One  moment  she  seemed  like  an  avenging 
angel  denouncing  his  errors,  the  next,  with  her 
hands  clasped  and  eyes  streaming,  she  called  him 
by  every  tender  name  and  shielded  him  in  fancy  on 
her  bosom,  as  in  days  of  yore,  when  he  was  a  sin- 
less child,  and  declared  that  not  the  testimony  of 
all  the  world  could  make  her  beheve  that  he  had 
taken  a  fehow-creature's  Hfe.  Occasionally,  tak- 
ing advantage  of  a  moment's  quiet  during  an  in- 
terval of  her  delirium,  Corinne  would  bend  over 
her  and  whisper  soothing,  tender  words,  but  they 
fell  on  the  sufferer's  ears  unheeded;  then,  kneel- 
ing again,  she  renewed  her  supplications  to  Him 
who  has  promised  not  to  break  the  bruised  reed. 
Evening  wore  on,  darkness,  and  finally  the 
gloom  of  night,  and  she  had  raved  on,  until,  ex- 


THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY.  229 


hausted,  she  sunk  into  a  profound  though  trou- 
bled sleep.  Judge  Herbert  came  into  the  room, 
followed  by  a  servant  with  lights,  and  the  house- 
keeper, and,  thanking  Corinne  in  a  whisper  for 
her  kindness,  gazed  down  on  the  pale  and  trou- 
bled face  of  his  wife,  until  big,  hot  tears  rolled 
over  his  cheeks  and  fell  on  her  hand,  which  he 
had  taken  within  his  own. 

"Farewell,  Miss  LesHe,"  he  whispered,  follow- 
ing her  to  the  door;  ''think  not  too  harshly  of 
the  poor  boy;  he  was  too  high  spirited,  too  im- 
perious, but,  depend  on  it,  Evelyn  never  intended 
to  be  a  murderer.  I  can,  in  imitation  of  a  cer- 
tain lord  chancellor  of  England,  say,  had  we 
served  our  God  as  well  as  we  have  served  the 
world,  had  we  adored  him  as  we  did  the  creature 
he  gave  unto  us,  this  sorrow  would  not  have 
come  on  our  gray  hairs.  But  go  to  your  peace- 
ful home,  and  when  there  forget  not  to  pray  for 
the  broken-hearted  " 

Corinne  wept,  and,  unable  to  speak,  pressed 
his  hand  with  reverence  and  affection  to  her  lips, 
and,  kissing  Airs.  Herbert  on  the  forehead,  left 
the  room  in  silence.  As  they  left  the  house,  Mr. 
Leslie  and  his  daughter,  a  horseman  dashed  furi- 
ously up,  and  as  the  light  from  the  open  hall  door 
streamed  out  on  him  they  recognized  the  white, 
agonized  face  of  Evelyn  Herbert.  They  did  not 
pause,  but  with  sad  hearts  returned  home. 
Smiles  had  vanished  from  Elverton  Hall;  every 


230 


THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


member  of  the  family  who  had  heard  the  news 
felt  the  most  profound  commiseration  for  the 
afflicted  circle  at  the  Oaklands. 

"Thank  God,  Corinne  dear/'  said  Mr.  Leslie, 
as  they  sat  around  the  drawing-room  table  after 
tea,  "thank  God  that  you  did  not  love  him.  How 
bitter,  how  bitter  would  be  your  agony  now!" 

"Happy  indeed  for  me,"  she  replied,  "that  the 
object  on  which  my  hopes  are  placed  is  both  sure 
and  steadfast.  In  the  world  those  who  sow  in 
joy  reap  in  tears ;  but  out  of  it,  those  who  sow  in 
tears  reap  in  joy." 

Mr.  Leslie  sighed,  and,  requesting  her  to  un- 
cover her  harp  and  play  for  him,  laid  his  head 
back  on  his  chair  and  closed  his  eyes,  with  an  ex- 
pression of  painful  thought  on  his  countenance. 

"Come,  Blanche,  let  us  sing  'Ave  Maria,  guar- 
dian bright!'  it  will  tranquillize  us  all;  but  where 
is  Father  Borgia?    He  might  sing  with  us." 

"He  was  sent  for,  to  visit  a  dying  person,  soon 
after  you  left,"  replied  Edgar.  "A  man  who  was 
in  early  life  a  Catholic,  but  who,  neglecting  first 
one,  then  another  pious  practice,  finally  forgot 
all,  and  has  Uved  for  thirty  years  in  the  open  vio- 
lation of  all  the  precepts  of  the  Church." 

"Does  he  belong  to  our  neighborhood?"  in- 
quired Corinne. 

"He  has  settled  in  it  lately,"  he  replied.  "Do 
you  not  remember  seeing  a  tall,  respectable,  gray 
headed  man,  who  was  here  to  see  your  father  sev- 


TEE  8I8TEB  OF  CHARITY.  231 


eral  times  on  business?  Well,  he  was  one  of  the 
workmen  employed  in  giving  the  finishing 
touches  to  our  little  chapel.  Father  Borgia  met 
him  there  several  times  when  they  were  putting 
in  the  windows,  and  during  one  or  two  accidental 
conversations  learned  the  fact,  and  from  that 
hour  let  no  opportunity  pass  without  beseeching 
him,  in  the  most  pathetic  terms,  to  become  rec- 
onciled to  the  Church.  He  promised  to  do  so 
time  after  time,  and  really  seemed  penitent,  but 
has  put  of?  the  affair  until  the  eleventh  hour. 
God  have  mercy  on  him!" 

"As  it  is  probable  he  is  now  in  his  last  agony, 
or  near  it,"  said  Corinne,  timidly,  suppose  we  say 
a  decade  of  the  rosary  for  him." 

''You  are  right,  dear,"  said  Mr.  Leshe,  kneel- 
ing; "we  will  say  the  decade  of  the  second  dolor- 
ous mystery  for  his  departing  soul,  that  by  the 
powerful  aid  of  the  ]\Iother  of  Jesus  it  may, 
through  his  merits,  be  at  last  saved!" 

Thus,  while  the  pious  priest  was  at  a  distance 
and  wrestHng  in  prayer  with  God  for  the  soul  of 
the  dying  man,  this  pious  family  joined  him  in  his 
intention,  and  though  unseen  by  him,  and  at  a 
distance  from  the  scene  of  his  Christian  labors, 
they  aided  him  by  their  prayers,  and,  animated 
by  the  spirit  of  the  same  faith,  besought  that  God 
might  sanctify  them  to  the  salvation  of  the  soul 
of  the  dying  penitent.  After  this  act  of  disin- 
terested and  pious  charity  they  sang  the  hymn, 


232 


THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY, 


and  with  their  thoughts  lingering  around  the 
form  of  the  contrite  sinner,  many  an  unspoken 
prayer  ascended  upward  with  their  rich,  harmon- 
ious voices  to  the  mercy-seat  in  his  behalf.  With 
hearts  tranquillized  more  by  the  holy  influence 
of  charity  than  the  music  they  gathered  around 
the  table  again  to  pursue,  with  peaceful  hearts, 
their  usual  evening  avocations.  In  about  a  half 
hour  Father  Borgia  returned,  looking  pale  and 
exhausted,  and  said  ''that  the  man,  though  a 
small  degree  better,  was  still  in  danger;  his  phy- 
sician said  he  might  live  until  the  next  day  at 
noon,  and,  as  he  was  truly  and  sincerely  contrite, 
he  trusted  that  he  would  have  the  happiness  to 
administer  the  sacraments  of  the  Church  to  him; 
and,"  continued  Father  Borgia,  Hfting  his  eyes 
heavenward,  ''may  our  blessed  Lord  look  down 
in  mercy  on  his  soul!  May  the  immaculate  Vir- 
gin Mother  intercede  for  him,  and  the  holy  apos- 
tles make  intercession  for  him;  and  may  he  at  last 
be,  through  Christ,  purified  by  the  flames  of  pur- 
gatory, and  admitted  to  the  beatific  vision!" 

"Amen — may  it  be  so!"  said  Mr.  LesUe  and 
Edgar,  reverently. 

After  a  respectful  silence  the  sisters  resumed 
their  work,  and  Edgar,  taking  a  manuscript  from 
his  pocket,  drew  his  chair  near  the  table  and 
opened  its  leaves. 

"What  have  you  there,  Edgar?"  inquired 
Blanche. 


TEE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


233 


''An  old  Catholic  legend/'  he  replied;  'Svould 
you  like  to  hear  it?" 

''Oh,  yes;  but  on  what  subject  is  it  written, 
and  by  whom?"  she  said. 

"An  author,  perhaps,  of  whom  you  have  never 
heard — Henry  Sickius— and  is  one  of  the  many 
sacred  lesfends  of  the  olden  times  from  which  the 
subjects  are  taken  which  are  so  magnificently 
painted  on  many  of  the  cathedral  windows  of 
Europe.  Nothing  that  ^lilton  ever  wrote  sur- 
passes in  sublimity  the  fragment  which  I  have 
translated  from  one  of  Father  Borgia's  curious 
old  books  for  you."'^  It  derives  its  sublimity  of 
tone  and  soul-touching  grandeur  from  the  mys- 
teries of  the  resurrection." 

Mr.  Leslie  also  drew  near  the  table  to  listen, 
and  Father  Borgia  excusing  himself,  retired  to 
spend  an  hour  or  two  in  silence  and  devotion  be- 
fore the  bell  rang  for  evening  prayers.  Blanche 
shaded  the  lamp,  and  Edgar,  with  a  clear,  deep- 
toned  voice,  commenced  the  legend  thus: 

"  'Jesus  is  dead.    ^  darkness  over- 

shadows the  earth;  Jerusalem  is  all  in  confusion; 
the  people  murmur;  but.  unmoved  by  these 
events,  the  chiefs  of  the  priests  pursue  their  de- 
signs.   They  seal  the  entrance  of  the  sepulchre 

*Selected  from  the  "Catholic  ]^slagazine"  of  August,  1845, 
and  can  be  found,  with  interesting  details,  in  a  paper  on 
"Archaeology  and  Glass  Painting,"  with  the  legends  con- 
nected therew-ith. 


234 


THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY, 


where  Jesus  reposes;  they  station  near  it  a  guard 
of  soldiers,  and  cast  into  prison  Joseph  of  Ari- 
mathea,  because,  in  the  name  of  the  disciples,  he 
had  come  to  ask  for  the  body  of  their  Master. 
But  all  these  precautions  are  useless.  The 
guards  of  the  sepulchre  arrive,  and  proclaim  that 
Christ  has  risen  from  the  dead;  that  they  saw 
him  spring  forth  from  the  grave  and  speak  to  the 
women  who  sat  and  wept  hard  by.  Though  the 
people  refuse  to  believe  it,  they  persist  in  declar- 
ing what  they  have  seen  and  heard.  In  vain  is 
an  attempt  made  to  bribe  them;  the  news  con- 
tinues to  spread  in  every  direction,  and  is  con- 
firmed every  moment  by  the  arrival  of  further 
intelligence.  The  venerable  Joseph  of  Arimathea 
adds  to  the  confusion  of  the  magistrates  by  an- 
nouncing to  them  that  not  only  had  Christ  risen 
from  the  grave,  but  that  also  several  illustrious 
individuals  had  returned  to  life  with  him! 
''Listen  to  me,"  says  he;  ''we  all  knew  Simeon 
the  high  priest,  who  received  the  infant  Jesus  in 
his  arms  when  he  was  presented  in  the  temple. 
Simeon  had  two  sons,  and  we  all  assisted  at  their 
death  and  sepulture.  Now  come  with  me — see 
their  tombs;  they  are  open!  Carinus  and  Lucius 
repose  no  longer  there.  They  are  at  this  hour 
in  the  town  of  Arimathea,  where  they  pray  in 
silence,  without  speaking  to  any  one."  This  in- 
telligence casts  dismay  among  the  chief  priests 
and  Pharisees,  and  no  one  doubts  it  after  the  tes- 


THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


235 


timony  of  Joseph  of  Arimathea,  They  now  de- 
liberate on  what  is  to  be  done.  On  motion  of 
Joseph  of  Arimathea  the  resuscitated  sons  of 
Simeon  are  cahed  into  the  synagogue,  and  re- 
quested by  the  magistrates  to  relate  the  events 
which  had  taken  place  in  the  region  of  the  dead, 
and  how  they  had  been  restored  to  life.  Upon 
this  Carinus  and  Lucius  betray  considerable  emo- 
tion, and,  Hfting  their  eyes  to  heaven,  then  mak- 
ing the  sign  of  the  cross  upon  their  tongues, 
they  request  that  a  book  might  be  given  to  each 
of  them,  in  order  to  write  what  had  taken  place. 
The  books  having  been  furnished  them,  they  sat 
down  and  wrote  in  silence  what  follows:  \Yq  were 
seated  with  our  fathers  in  silence,  in  the  depths 
of  the  grave,  when  suddenly  a  light,  warm  and 
brilliant,  darted  like  a  beam  from  heaven  and  il- 
luminated our  midst.  Then  the  father  of  the 
human  race — Adam — and  all  the  patriarchs  and 
prophets  exclaimed.  This  light  comes  from  the 
Author  of  all  light,  and  announces  the  dawn  of 
eternal  day! 

"  'Isaiah  then  arose  and  said.  Behold  the  light 
of  the  Father,  the  Son,  and  the  Holy  Ghost,  of 
whom  I  foretold  when  on  earth;  Land  of  Zebu- 
Ion,  land  of  Xaphthali,  men  of  Galilee,  the  peo- 
ple who  are  in  darknesss  will  see  a  great  light, 
and  it  will  shine  upon  those  who  sit  in  the  shadow 
of  death! 

"  'And  we  all  rejoiced  at  the  splendor  of  the 


236 


TEE  SI8TER  OF  CEARITT. 


light  that  shone  about  us.  Simeon,  our  father, 
cried  out  in  a  loud  voice,  Glory  be  to  Jesus 
Christ,  Son  of  God,  of  whom  I  said  formerly 
when  he  lay  in  my  arms  in  the  temple,  Mine  eyes, 
oh,  Lord,  have  seen  thy  salvation — the  salva- 
tion thou  hast  prepared  for  the  world;  a  light  to 
the  revelation  of  the  Gentiles,  and  the  glory  of 
the  people  of  Israel! 

"  'And  all  heard  this  with  increased  transports 
of  joy.  Then  in  the  midst  of  us  came  one  like 
a  hermit  of  the  wilderness,  and  we  interrogated 
him:  Who  art  thou?  He  answered,  I  am  John, 
the  voice  of  the  Almighty;  the  prophet;  the  pre- 
cursor who  walked  before  him  to  prepare  his 
ways  and  give  to  the  people  the  science  of  salva- 
tion. Seeing  the  Saviour  of  the  world  coming 
to  me,  I  cried  out  to  the  people,  Behold  the 
Lamb  of  God,  w^ho  washes  away  the  sins  of  the 
world!  I  baptized  him  in  the  waters  of  the  Jor- 
dan; and  I  saw  the  Holy  Ghost  descend  upon 
him  in  the  shape  of  a  dove,  and  I  heard  a  voice 
saying,  This  is  my  beloved  Son,  in  whom  I  am 
well  pleased;  hear  ye  him.  And  now  again  I 
walk  before  him,  and  announce  to  you  that  his 
coming  is  nigh. 

"  Hearing  that  Jesus  had  been  baptized  in  the 
Jordan,  the  first  created  among  men,  Adam,  said 
to  Seth,  his  son.  My  son,  relate  to  the  patriarchs 
and  prophets  what  the  archangel  Michael  said 
to  you  when,  old  and  infirm,  I  sent  you  to  the  en- 


"THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


237 


trance  of  the  earthly  paradise,  to  ask  for  some 
balm  from  the  tree  of  mercy  to  anoint  my  de- 
caying limbs!  Seth,  then  drawing  near  to  the 
patriarchs  and  prophets,  related  to  them  what 
follows:  My  father  having  become  old  and  being 
near  his  death,  sent  me  to  the  gate  of  paradise  to 
beg  of  God  that  he  would  permit  me  to  enter  and 
gather  some  oil  from  the  tree  of  mercy.  I  obeyed 
my  father;  and  as  I  prayed  at  the  entrance  an 
angel  of  the  Lord  appeared  to  me  and  said,  What 
do  you  want?  the  balm  of  the  tree  of  mercy  to 
restore  your  father  to  health?  You  can  find 
none  here  now.  Go  back  and  tell  your  father, 
when  four  thousand  years  shall  have  elapsed,  the 
beloved  Son  of  God  wall  descend  upon  earth  and 
resuscitate  the  body  of  Adam,  with  those  of  all 
other  good  men  who  have  died  during  that  per- 
iod, and,  ascending  from  the  vv^aters  of  the  Jor- 
dan, he  will  anoint  with  the  balm  of  mercy  all 
those  who  believe  in  him,  and  that  balm  will  en- 
dure until  the  end  of  time.  Then  Jesus  Christ 
will  introduce  thy  father  into  Paradise. 

"  'The  patriarchs  and  prophets  were  filled  with 
joy  on  hearing  these  words  of  Seth. 

'But  while  this  beautiful  and  majestic  reun- 
ion of  the  saints  of  the  old  law  is  convened,  a 
dark  conventicle  of  demons  deliberate  on  the 
treatment  which  they  will  offer  to  the  soul  of 
Jesus  w^hen  it  descends  into  hell.  "I  have  tri- 
umphed over  him,"  exclaimed  Satan;  ''I  have 


238  THE  SI8TER  OF  CHARITY. 


excited  the  Jews  against  him,  and  at  this  very 
hour  he  is  expiring  on  a  cross."  This  chief  of  the 
rebel  angels,  who  presides  in  the  councils  of  the 
infernal  hosts,  speaks  of  Jesus  in  a  tone  of  deris- 
ion: "That  Jesus,"  says  he,  ''who  proclaims  him- 
self the  Son  of  God,  and  who  is  but  a  man,  is 
afraid  of  death,  crying  out,  'My  soul  is  sad,  even 
unto  death.'  And  yet,"  adds  Satan,  "he  has 
greatly  opposed  me,  for  he  has  cured  a  vast  num- 
ber of  wretches  whom  I  had  deprived  of  the  use 
of  their  Hmbs;  and  several  souls  I  was  carrying 
to  thee,  oh  Lucifer,  he  has  rescued  from  my 
grasp."         *  Lucifer  is  the  king  of  the 

infernal  empire,  and  Satan  is  his  first  minister. 
Lucifer,  who  proudly  holds  the  sceptre,  cannot 
share  the  disdain  his  subordinate  power  mani- 
fests, for  a  man  who  has  opposed  their  designs 
with  so  much  success.  "Who  is  he,  then,"  asks 
he,  "this  man  who  fears  death,  and  yet  surpasses 
in  power  all  the  powerful  of  the  earth,  who  have 
been  brought  hither  without  resistance?  If 
thou,  Satan,  speak  the  truth,  he  may  be  a  God 
who  pretends  to  fear  death  in  order  to  deceive 
thee.  Woe  to  thee,  woe  to  thee  forever  if  thou 
art  vanquished!" 

*Satan  affects  not  to  fear  Jesus,  but  boasts 
that  he  has  him  in  his  power,  and  that  his  friends, 
the  priests,  the  scribes  and  the  Pharisees,  will 
send  his  soul  to  him  forthwith. 

"  'While  Lucifer  and  his  first  minister  were 


THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


239 


thus  conversing  a  voice  like  that  of  thunder  was 
heard:  'Trinces,  open  your  gates;  be  raised  up, 
eternal  gates,  the  King  of  glory  is  advancing." 
Tollite  portas  principes^  vestras ;  et  elevaviim 
portcB  eternales,  et  introibit  rex  glories !  Hear- 
ing these  words  Lucifer  cries  out  to  Satan,  his 
minister,  Fly  away!  leave  me,  or  if  thou  art  a 
valiant  warrior  go  and  give  battle  to  that  King 
of  Glory.  He  then  drove  him  away,  and,  calHng 
his  impious  army,  he  said  to  them:  Close  the 
brazen  gates,  fasten  the  iron  bolts,  and  resist 
with  courage  if  you  wish  to  escape  captivity. 
The  saints,  hearing  these  orders  given  by  Luci- 
fer, felt  indignant,  and  unanimously  exclaimed: 
Open  your  gates  and  let  the  King  of  Glory  enter; 
and  David,  raising  his  voice,  added:  Have  I  not 
said,  Let  us  sing  the  Lord's  mercy;  let  us  cele- 
brate his  marvels  towards  the  sons  of  men,  for  he 
has  burst  the  brazen  gates,  and  the  iron  bolts  he 
has  broken?  Have  I  not  also  said:  The  dead 
will  be  resuscitated,  and  those  who  are  in  the 
graves  will  rise  again;  they  on  earth  will  rejoice, 
for  the  dews  of  heaven  have  come  unto  them? 
And  all  the  saints  repeated:  Lucifer,  open  thy 
gates;  from  this  day  thy  power  has  ceased;  and 
the  voice  from  without  resounded  again  as  a  clap 
of  thunder:  Attollite  portas  prineipes,  vestras;  et 
elevamini  portee  eternales,  et  introibit  rex  glories, 
Lucifer,  as  if  he  did  not  comprehend,  asked:  Who 
is  this  King  of  Glory?    ....    I  know  these 


240 


THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


words,  answered  David;  I  formerly  pronounced 
them.  I  will  repeat  them  to  thee,  oh,  Lucifer: 
He  is  the  inighty  and  powerful  God — powerful 
in  wars:  he  is  the  King  of  Glory.  He  has  lis- 
tened from  heaven  to  the  groans  of  the  captive, 
and  he  has  deUvered  the  sons  of  the  dead!  No 
sooner  had  David  pronounced  these  words  than 
the  King  of  Glory  appeared  in  human  form.  His 
presence  illumed  the  eternal  darkness,  and  loosed 
our  fetters.'  " 

"I  can  see  it  all,"  said  Blanche,  ''as  on  a  wide- 
spread and  brilliantly  covered  canvas.  How 
simple,  and  yet  how  grand!" 

''And  so  probable  in  its  details,"  said  Mr.  Les- 
lie, "that  one  can  scarcely  believe  it  is  not  the 
work  of  inspiration." 

Corinne  was  silent,  but  from  her  brightened 
eyes  and  kindling  cheeks  it  was  not  difficult  to 
imagine  the  impression  which  this  sacred  legend 
made  on  her. 

''In  using  the  words  of  M.  Douhaire,"  contin- 
ued Edgar,  "I  express  my  own  sentiments.  'It 
would  be  difficult  to  imagine,'  said  he,  'a  more 
striking  and  more  dramatic  scene.  Could  fancy 
create  a  bolder  contrast  than  that  presented  be- 
tween the  venerable  assembly  of  the  saints  gath- 
ered around  the  Father  of  mankind  at  the  dawn- 
ing of  their  deliverance,  and  the  infernal  con- 
gress of  demons  united  to  devise  a  plan  against 
Jesus?    But  the  most  ingenious  idea  is  that  sol- 


TEE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY.  241 


emn  confronting  of  the  two  periods,  the  old  and 
new,  that  verification  of  the  prophecies  by  the 
prophets  themselves,  and  that  awakening  of  a 
generation  of  four  thousand  years  at  the  sound 
of  a  voice  which  they  had  only  heard  before  in  a 
mysterious  manner.'  But  to  continue  the  leg- 
end: The  shock  and  agitation  caused  by  the  ar- 
rival of  Christ  in  the  kingdom  of  the  dead  soon 
reach  its  farthest  boundaries.  The  dead  awake 
and  rise  to  a  man,  still  under  the  impression  of  a 
pleasing  dream,  and  they  contemplate  in  holy 
ecstasy  the  completion  of  the  promises  in  the  be- 
lief of  which  they  descended  to  the  grave. 

"  'Christ  extends  his  hand  towards  the  just. 
At  his  feet  Adam,  the  father  of  all  men,  sings  in 
rapture  that  beautiful  psalm  of  David,  in  which 
David  himself  exclaims :  Cantate  Domino  can- 
ticum  nozmm  quia  mirabilia  fecit,  &c. — Sing  a 
new  canticle  to  the  Lord,  for  he  has  done  mar- 
vels, &c.,  and  the  crowd  of  the  just  repeat  Alle- 
luia, amen.  On  the  other  side  are  heard  the 
maledictions  and  gnashing  of  teeth  of  the 
demons.  Then  as  the  just  ascend  to  heaven — a 
glorious  and  ransomed  company — they  are 
joined  by  two  men  of  old.  Who  are  you,  they 
ask,  who  go  up  to  heaven  with  us,  although  you 
shared  not  our  captivity  in  the  shades  of  Hades? 
One  of  them  answered,  I  am  Enoch,  transported 
from  earth  to  heaven  by  the  word  of  the  Lord. 
This  is  Elias  the  Thesbite,  carried  away  on  a  fiery 


242  THE  SI8TER  OF  CHARITY. 


chariot.  We  did  not  taste  death  as  the  rest  of 
men;  the  Lord  has  kept  us  in  reserve  for  the  days 
of  Antichrist.  After  having  combated  against 
him  v^ith  miracles  and  prodigies,  v^e  shall  be  put 
to  death  in  Jerusalem,  and  on  the  fourth  day 
after  v^e  shall  be  again  carried  to  the  skies. 
Enoch  and  EHas  were  still  speaking,  when  there 
advanced  towards^  them  another  man,  of 
wretched  mien,  who  bore,  with  difficulty,  a  heavy 
cross  on  his  shoulders.  Who  art  thou?  they 
asked;  for  thy  appearance  is  that  of  a  thief. 
Why  this  cross  on  thy  shoulder?  He  an- 
swered: You  speak  the  truth;  I  have  been  doing 
evil  on  earth.  The  Jews  crucified  me  with  Jesus 
of  Nazareth,  but,  seeing  the  convulsion  of  all  na- 
ture at  his  death,  I  acknowledged  him  as  the  sov- 
ereign Lord  of  heaven  and  earth,  and  I  prayed 
to  him,  saying:  Remember  me,  oh,  Lord,  when 
you  will  be  in  your  kingdom!  He  heard  my 
prayer,  and,  inclining  his  head,  he  said  to  me: 
Amen,  amen;  I  say  to  thee.  This  day  thou  wilt  be 
with  me  in  Paradise;  carry  this  cross  with  thee; 
go  to  Michael,  the  archangel,  who  watches  at  the 
gate  of  heaven,  and  say  to  him:  Jesus,  the  Son 
of  God,  at  this  time  crucified,  hath  sent  me 
hither.  I  did  thus,  and  the  angel  opened  unto 
me  and  gave  me  a  place,  saying:  Wait  here  a  lit- 
tle; Adam,  the  first  man,  will  soon  arrive  with  all 
the  just.  When  I  saw  you  all  reunited  together 
I  came  to  join  you. 


THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


243 


"  Thus  spoke  the  good  thief,  and  all  the 
saints,  after  having  heard  him,  exclaimed:  Thou 
art  great,  oh  Lord!  and  great  is  thy  power!  .  .  . 

"  'Here  end  the  revelations  of  Carinus  and 
Lucius.  The  two  sons  of  Simeon  were  forbid- 
den to  reveal  anything  further  touching  the  mys- 
teries of  heaven.  They  were  commanded,  af- 
ter having  shown  themselves  in  Jerusalem,  to  re- 
tire to  the  other  bank  of  the  Jordan  into  a  rich 
and  pleasant  valley,  ard  "here  to  celebrate  the 
Passover  with  other  holy  personages  restored  to 
life,  in  order  to  accomplish  the  great  mystery. 
Three  days  only  had  been  allotted  for  the  term 
of  their  residence  on  earth. 

"  'When  they  had  finished  their  writing,'  con- 
tinues the  legend,  'they  arose  and  gave  one  of 
their  books  to  the  magistrates,  and  the  other  to 
Joseph  of  Arimathea  and  Nicodemus.  They 
were  then  transformed,  becoming  w^hite  as  snow, 
and  disappearing.  Their  books,  when  com- 
pared, were  found  exactly  alike,  the  one  not  hav- 
ing a  single  letter  more  than  the  other.'  "  .  .  .  . 

All  were  highly  pleased  with  Edgar's  manu- 
script, but  their  various  comments  were  inter- 
rupted by  the  entrance  of  Father  Borgia,  who 
entered  the  room  just  as  the  clock  chimed  eleven 
to  read  the  night  prayers.  The  bell  rang,  and 
Sister  Therese  came  down  to  join  them  in  their 
pious  devotions,  followed  soon  after  by  a  few  of 
the  domestics,  who  had  been  waiting  patiently 


24:4 


THE  8ISTER  OF  CHARITY, 


until  this  rather  late  hour  to  join  also  in  this  act 
of  religion  which  sanctifies  the  past  hours  and 
deeds  of  the  day. 

Repose  had  scarcely  settled  through  the 
household  when  a  violent  storm  of  thunder, 
lightning  and  rain  arose,  which  threatened  to 
tear  up  the  strongest  trees  of  the  forest,  and 
caused  the  house  to  tremble  as  if  by  the  shock  of 
an  earthquake.  Between  the  hours  of  one  and 
two,  while  the  rain  still  descended  in  torrents,  a 
messenger  arrived  in  hot  haste  for  Father  Borgia 
to  come  immediately  to  the  man  he  had  left  a 
short  time  before.  They  believed  him  dying, 
and,  yielding  to  his  prayers  and  tears,  one  of  his 
fellow-workmen  consented  to  venture  out  in  the 
storm  and  bring  with  him  the  minister  of  God. 
He  did  not  hesitate  a  moment  when  the  servant 
who  opened  the  door  told  him  the  man's  errand, 
but,  taking  a  small  gold  case  from  a  cabinet, 
which  contained  the  blessed  sacrament  and  the 
holy  oils,  he  was  in  a  few  moments  prepared  to 
attend  the  summons.  He  arrived  in  time,  as 
the  penitent  man  lingered  until  sunrise,  when  he 
fell  gently  asleep,  trusting  in  the  mercies  of  Christ 
for  mercy  and  salvation.  The  family  at  Elverton 
Hall  had  not  been  disturbed  by  the  departure  of 
Father  Borgia,  and  the  next  morning,  when  they 
went  to  the  chapel  at  the  usual  hour — seven 
o'clock — to  attend  mass,  they  found  him  there, 
kneeling  with  an  aspect  of  rapt  devotion  at  the 


TEE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


245 


altar.  Their  entrance  aroused  him  from  his 
meditations,  and  he  proceeded  to  celebrate  the 
holy  office,  requesting,  ere  he  began,  their 
prayers  for  the  repose  of  the  soul  of  the  departed 
one.  At  breakfast  they  were  much  edified  by  a 
description  of  his  last  moments. 

Corinne  intended  seeing  Mrs.  Herbert  again 
on  this  day,  but  the  arrival  of  Evelyn  rendered  it 
now  impossible.  Mr.  Leslie  and  Edgar  rode 
over  to  the  Oaklands,  and  brought  back  the  in- 
telligence that,  although  they  remained  in  the 
deepest  affliction,  both  the  judge  and  Mrs.  Her- 
bert seemed  to  be  much  consoled  by  the  presence 
of  their  son,  who  expressed  both  by  his  appear- 
ance and  manner  signs  of  the  keenest  remorse. 
Blanche  frequently  visited  Mrs.  Herbert,  ac- 
companied sometimes  by  Corinne  and  at  other 
times  by  Sister  Therese,  who  gradually  acquired 
an  influence  over  her  which  taught  her  to  look 
for  consolation  where  alone  it  could  be  found- 
in  the  consolations  of  religion;  the  family  at  the 
Hall  were  not,  therefore,  surprised  when  one 
morning  the  judge  himself  came  to  invite  Father 
Borgia  to  visit  his  lady  as  her  regular  pastor,  and 
instruct  her  in  the  dogmas  of  the  Catholic  relig- 
ion, which  she  had  determined  to  adopt. 

Days  and  weeks  passed  on,  and  the  happy  cir- 
cle at  the  Hall  discovered  every  day  some  new 
and  perfect  beauty  in  the  ancient  faith  which 
they  had  adopted,  as  Father  Borgia  explained 


246  THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


in  his  usual  happy  manner  those  few  points  of 
doctrine  with  which  they  were  not  familiar,  and 
instructed  them  in  those  minor  tenets  and  prac- 
tices which,  though  not  considered  absolutely 
essential  to  salvation,  are  the  natural  conse- 
quences of  faith,  which,  like  the  smaller  and  ap- 
parently insignificant  portions  of  creation,  make 
it,  as  a  whole,  harmoniously  perfect  throughout. 
Their  charity,  which  had  heretofore  been  indo- 
lently passive,  until  appealed  to  by  startling 
emergencies  or  palpable  want,  threw  of¥  its  in- 
ertness, and,  under  the  bright  beams  of  the  new 
sun  of  righteousness  which,  had  risen  in  their 
souls,  sprung  forth  into  active  life,  to  be  clouded 
no  more  in  mists  or  uncertainty,  and  sought  out 
among  their  own  people  and  the  poor  of  the 
neighborhood  worthy  objects  on  whom  they 
might  bestow  their  care,  and  share  with  them 
the  superfluities  of  life.  The  children  of  their 
female  servants  were  faithfully  attended  to  by 
Corinne  and  Blanche;  they  had  already  formed 
two  large  classes,  some  of  whom,  with  quick 
memories  and  docile  dispositions,  were  making 
considerable  progress  in  their  catechisms.  Sis- 
ter Therese  visited  many  of  the  women  in  their 
own  hpuses,  accompanied  sometimes  by  Cor- 
inne, and  patiently  explained  to  them  in  simple 
language  the  Catholic  doctrines  and  the  great 
necessity  there  was  for  them  to  embrace  them. 
With  the  devotion  of  the  rosary  they  all  seemed 


THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY, 


247 


particularly  pleased;  and  the  most  prominent  ob- 
ject in  many  of  the  cottages  was  a  picture  of  the 
Blessed  Virgin,  and  occasionally  a  set  of  prayer- 
beads,  which  they  had  received  as  rewards  of 
their  application  and  attention  to  rehgious  in- 
struction from  Father  Borgia.  The  exertions 
of  Father  Borgia,  Mr.  Leslie  and  Edgar  among 
the  men  were  crowned  with  partial  success,  and 
on  Sundays  and  Wednesdays,  and  very  often  at 
the  early  Mass  on  other  days,  a  congregation  of 
some  twenty  or  twenty-five  men,  with  their 
wives,  might  be  seen  devoutly  attending  the 
chapel  in  the  Hollow.  Corinne  had,  with  Mr. 
Leslie's  consent,  formally  adopted  Irene,  who 
was  faithfully  taught,  not  only  to  lisp  her 
prayers  at  her  friend's  knee,  but  place  herself 
daily  under  the  patronage  of  the  Mother  of  God. 
She  was  duly  initiated  into  the  mysteries  of  let- 
ters, and  astonished  the  whole  family  one  morn- 
ing by  spelling,  without  assistance,  b-a,  ba.  She 
was  perfectly  interesting,  and  every  one  indulged 
and  treated  her  with  such  a  degree  of  tenderness 
that,  had  it  not  been  for  the  wise  control  of  Sis- 
ter Therese  and  her  friendly  advice  to  Corinne, 
the  lovely  child  would  have  become  that  most 
disagreeable  of  all  living  creatures — a  spoiled 
pet.  As  it  was,  her  childhood  promised  richly 
for  her  riper  years;  and  if  well  trained  she  bid  fair 
to  be  as  perfect  in  character  as  she  was  in  physi- 


248 


THE  8J8TER  OF  CHARITY. 


cal  beauty.  She  frequently  pointed  to  a  small 
red  mark  in  the  shape  of  a  strawberry  or  cherry, 
which  seemed  as  if  it  had  been  stained  on  the 
white  skin  of  her  arm,  just  below  the  shoulder, 
by  some  indelible  Indian  dye,  and  said,  "My 
mamma  tiss  it  too  much,"  and  which  afforded 
her  a  constant  memorial  of  that  tender  parent; 
for  it  was  never  noticed  by  herself  or  others  with- 
out bringing  forth  from  her  some  simple  and 
touching  remark  concerning  her. 

One  day  Sister  Therese  received  a  letter  from 
E   which  required,  if  her  health  was  suffi- 
ciently restored,  her  immediate  presence  in  one 
of  the  northern  cities  to  take  charge  of  an  in- 
firmary, in  the  place  of  the  superior,  who  had  just 
died.  She  was  far  from  being  perfectly  restored 
to  health;  she  continued  feeble,  and  it  was  evi- 
dent that  her  nervous  system  was  seriously  de- 
bilitated; however,  she  regarded  not  her  weak- 
ness or  ill-health,  now  that  her  services  were  pos- 
itively required,  and,  notwithstanding  all  the 
affectionate  and  pressing  invitations  which  she 
received  from  her  friends  to  remain,  determined 
to  start  on  the  following  morning.  When  it 
was  known  through  the  house  that  she  was  to 
leave  so  soon  every  countenance  wore  an  ex- 
pression of  sadness;  even  Mrs.  Murray  had  the 
grace  to  say:  ''She  was  a  sweet  lady,  and  it  was 
a  pity  she  was  going  away." 


THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


249 


''But  you  will  come  again,  marni,''  said  ^Irs. 
^Murray  to  Sister  Therese,  who  went  after  tea 
that  night  to  take  leave  of  her. 

"Xot  unless  I  am  shipwrecked  again,"'  she  re- 
plied, smiling.  "It  is  against  the  rules  of  my 
order  to  visit  for  pleasure;  therefore,  as  it  is  more 
than  probable  we  shall  never  meet  again,  here  is 
a  small  keepsake  for  you:  wear  it,  for  my  sake, 
around  your  neck,  and  say  occasionally  the  little 
prayer  which  I  have  written  on  this  slip  of 
paper,"  continued  she.  putting  a  black  guard,  to 
which  was  attached  a  miraculous  medal,  about 
]\Irs.  ^lurray's  neck,  and  handing  her  a  paper  on 
which  was  neatly  written  St.  Bernard's  exquis- 
itely touching  prayer  to  the  Blessed  Mrgin, 

]\Irs.  ^Murray  wiped  her  eyes,  then  her  specta- 
cles, and,  looking  through  them  at  the  first 
words  of  the  prayer,  said:  '''Til  wear  it  for  your 
sake,  marm:  but  indeed  I  can't  pray  to  no  one 
but  God.  I  see  no  use  in  praying  to  a  woman, 
when  we  can  go  right  to  the  fountain-head." 

^'If  by  the  fountain-head  you  mean  God,  we 
cannot  address  a  prayer  to  her  without  address- 
ing him.  We  do  not  ask  the  Blessed  Mrgin  to 
save  us:  that  would  be  idolatry:  we  ask  her  to 
pray  for  us.  To  whom,  therefore,  can  she  inter- 
cede for  us.  if  not  to  God?  You  believe  that  the 
prayers  of  the  righteous  avail  much,  even  on 
earth,  and  no  doubt  frequently  ask  your  friends 


250  TEE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


to  pray  for  you ;  how  much  more  holy,  how  much 
more  efficacious,  then,  are  the  prayers  of  those 
who,  cleansed  from  every  earthly  stain,  exist  in 
the  presence  of  God  forever!" 

"It  won't  do,  indeed;  I  can't  and  won't  do  it, 
hoping  you'll  excuse  me,"  said  the  old  lady. 
'Til  wear  the  bit  of  silver,  but  as  to  praying  to  it 
or  to  her,  I  can't,  and  it's  no  use  to  Hsten  even 
to  such  talk." 

''Well,  well,"  said  Sister  Therese,  "wear  the 
medal;  I  will  say  the  prayer  daily  for  you,  that 
God  in  his  mercy  may  remember  your  kindness 
to  a  shipwrecked  stranger  by  bringing  you  ere 
long  into  the  fold  of  his  true  faith.  Farewell, 
Mrs.  Murray;  we  shall  meet,  I  trust,  in  a  better 
world." 

''I  hope  we  may;  I'm  sure,  anyhow,  of  getting 
to  heaven,  and  I  hope  I  shall  see  you,"  she  re- 
plied, stiffly;  'and  hoping  you  won't  be  hurt, 
marm,  I  must  take  this  'ere  thing  off  my  neck, 
for  it  seems  like  as  if  my  throat  was  a  twitching 
inside  with  it.  I'll  keep  it  in  my  drawer,  and  you 
needn't,  with  many  thanks  to  you,  say  that  'ere 
prayer.  It's  heathenish-like,  and  I,  being  a 
Bible  Christian,  don't  care  about  worshipping 
women.  I  hope,  marm,  you  ain't  offended  or 
hurt,  and  wish  you  may  have  a  pleasant  journey 
and  get  home  safe  and  sound,  and  at  last  meet 
me  in  heaven." 


THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


251 


'Thank  you  for  your  kind  wishes,  dear/''  re- 
plied Sister  Therese,  meekly.  "]^vlay  your  wishes 
in  my  behalf  be  accomplished.  Farewell." 

"Farewell,  marm,'"  said  }>Irs.  Zvlurray,  wiping 
her  eyes;  "I  wish  I  had  a  nice  Bible  to  give  you  to 
read,  but  mine  is  old  and  tattered.  Anyhow,  try 
and  get  one,  and  saarch  it  well;  it  will  put  you  in 
the  right  way.  Good-by." 

yir.  Leslie  conveyed  Sister  Therese,  accom- 
panied by  Corinne,  some  twenty  miles  on  her 
journey  in  his  own  carriage,  and,  placing  her 
under  the  protection  of  an  elderly  lady,  a  friend 
of  his  they  accidentally  met  at  the  railroad  depot, 
and  who  was  going  direct  on  the  route  as  far  as  the 
seaport  town,  where  they  would  take  passage  in 

one  of  the  northern  line  of  steamers  for  B  . 

They  bade  her  an  affectionate  adieu,  and  left  her, 
with  many  regrets  and  a  promise  to  see  her  ere 
long  in  that  city.  AMien  they  returned  home 
]\Ir.  Leslie  found  that  \A'illie  Stevens,  the  young 
man  for  whom  he  had  written  to  manage  his  af- 
fairs during  his  absence  in  Europe,  had  arrived. 
His  peculiar  trials,  his  education,  a  degree  more 
cultivated  and  refined  than  ordinary,  his  piety 
and  gentle  manners,  prepossessed  them  all  in  his 
favor,  and  ]\Ir.  Leslie  admitted  him  at  once  into 
the  family  circle  as  a  friend. 


252 


THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


CHAPTER  XIIL 
THE  BRIDAL— LEAVING  HOME. 

BRIGHT  and  beautiful  dawned  the  bridal 
morning  of  Blanche  Leslie  on  the  earth. 
The  rosy  beams  of  the  sun,  newly  risen, 
fell  with  a  softened  Hght  through  the  silvery  haze 
of  an  Indian  summer  sky,  and  the  woods,  gor- 
geous with  the  crimson  and  yellow  hues  of  au- 
tumn, looked  as  if  they  were  arrayed  in  hoHday 
attire  for  the  occasion.  The  low,  sweet  sounds 
which  ever  made  rich  music  about  the  old  hall  were 
still  heard;  the  distant  murmur  of  the  tranquil 
ocean,  the  songs  of  the  birds,  the  hum  of  the 
bees,  and  the  rustling  of  vines  and  flowers,  with 
deep,  long-drawn  echoes  sweeping  up  from  the 
depths  of  the  woods  at  intervals,  as  some  heavy 
bough,  borne  down  by  its  own  fruition,  fell,  or 
the  partridge,  uttering  her  short,  musical  note, 
sprang  on  frightened  wing  from  the  earth,  to 
find  a  shelter  in  the  dense  foliage  overhead.  At 
an  early  hour,  arrayed  in  pure  white,  with  long 
white  veils  thrown  over  their  heads  and  floating 
in  pure  and  graceful  folds  around  them,  the 


THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY.  253 


twins,  preceded  by  Father  Borgia  and  accom- 
panied by  Mr.  Leslie  and  Edgar,  walked  towards 
the  chapel  in  the  Hollow,  now  known  by  its  more 
Christian  name  of  Our  Lady's  Chapel.  To  their 
astonishment  they  found  it  profusely  decorated 
with  flowers,  and  as  the  morning  beams  streamed 
through  its  painted  windows  as  through  prisms, 
and  floated  like  glories  through  the  atmosphere 
within,  the  effect  was  rich  and  beautiful.  Lilies 
and  white  roses,  with  many  an  orange  blossom, 
clustered  on  the  altar  and  diffused  a  delicious 
perfume  throughout  the  chapel.  They  would 
have  been  left  in  doubt  as  to  the  identity  of  the 
person  whose  refined  taste  had  so  beautifully  ar- 
ranged it  all,  had  not  Willie  Stevens,  who  did  not 
expect  them  so  soon,  betrayed  himself  by  enter- 
ing with  two  large  white  vases,  one  in  each  arm, 
filled  with  orange-flowers  and  arbor  vitae,  re- 
lieved by  clusters  of  delicately  tinted  roses,  which 
he,  modestly  blushing,  arranged  on  each  side  of 
the  altar  on  the  floor,  which  now  gave  it  the  ef- 
fect of  a  pyramid  of  light  and  flowers.  A  few 
favorite  servants,  trimly  and  gayly  dressed,  now 
entered,  that  they  might  be  as  much  as  possible 
with  their  beloved  young  ladies  and  join  in  the 
worship  of  religion  with  them  for  perhaps  the 
last  time.  It  would  be  utterly  impossible  to  de- 
scribe the  mingled  feelings  of  joy,  sadness  and 
hope  of  those  present.  The  circumstances  were 
peculiar  under  which  they  had  assembled.  It 


254 


THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


was  the  bridal  morning  which  brought  such  a 
sense  of  present  happiness  to  Edgar  and  Blanche, 
and  while  Corinne's  pious  wishes  afforded  to  her 
a  fount  of  ever-springing  joy  and  anxious  hopes, 
the  thought  of  separation  connected  with  them 
gave  to  Mr.  Leslie  the  most  exquisite  pain. 
These  things,  added  to  the  circumstance  of  their 
being  on  the  eve  of  departure  for  a  strange  land, 
perhaps  never  to  return,  made  the  Mass  one  of 
singular  devotion  to  them  all.  Tears  fell  un- 
bidden from  every  eye  as  they  individually  in- 
voked the  blessing  and  aid  of  Almighty  God  on 
their  various  designs,  and  never,  perhaps,  had 
each  one  so  sincerely  and  distinctly  felt  their  own 
utter  helplessness  and  dependence  on  Him,  or 
the  need  of  that  life-giving  bread  which  they  were 
about  to  receive.  As  the  holy  office  gradually 
proceeded  to  the  great  and  accumulative  mira- 
cle, by  which  the  bread  and  wine  of  the  sacra- 
ment, by  the  power  of  God  and  the  words  of  con- 
secration, becomes  the  real  body  and  blood  of 
Christ,  every  emotion  of  their  hearts  was  ab- 
sorbed in  the  sublime  and  holy  mystery,  and  in 
adoration  to  God  for  the  love  displayed  to  his 
creatures,  who  first  not  only  so  loved  them  as  to 
incarnate  his  divinity  in  human  flesh  to  suffer 
for  their  salvation,  but  gave  himself  \.o  be  their 
immortal  food  until  the  end  of  time;  a  sacrifice  in 
which  is  daily  renewed  the  sacrifice  of  the  cross 
in  an  unbloody  manner,  as  an  actual  commem- 


TEE  8ISTER  OF  CHARITY.  1355 

oration  of  Him,  and  the  most  powerful  and  effi- 
cacious means  of  calvation.  And  when  the  sol- 
emn moment  arrived  for  them  to  communicate, 
how  distinctly  could  they  comprehend  the  neces- 
sity of  an  immortal  food,  to  satisfy  the  longings 
and  hunger  of  an  immortal  soul,  and  how  utterly 
insignificant  appeared  the  figurative  meaning  in- 
sisted on  by  some  of  all  those  sublime  promises 
which  our  Lord  in  the  institution  of  the  Euchar- 
istic  feast  made  to  his  church;  how  like  painted 
shadows,  dimly  defined,  and  without  substance, 
they  appeared,  with  the  life-giving  reality.  Like 
their  fathers  in  the  wilderness,  they  eat  manna 
and  refuse  that  bread  which  cometh  down  from 
heaven,  of  which  Christ  is  the  substance,  and 
which  confers  on  him  that  eateth  worthily  eter- 
nal life. 

After  Mass  Father  Borgia  made  a  short  and 
impressive  address  to  the  betrothed  pair,  pointed 
out  the  new  and  important  relations  which  they 
would  hereafter  hold  towards  each  other,  and 
dwelt  particularly  on  the  necessity  of  all  the  prac^ 
tices  of  Christian  virtue  to  enable  them  to  dis- 
charge their  mutual  duties  in  a  manner  well- 
pleasing  to  Almighty  God;  after  which,  giving 
them  a  blessing,  they  all  sang  together — for  the 
last  time  together — accompanied  by  the  sweet- 
toned  organ,  the  Litany  of  the  Blessed  Virgin. 

The  morning  meal  was  taken  almost  in  silence, 
and  yet  it  was  not  a  silence  which  proceeded 


256  TEE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY, 


either  from  unhappiness  or  gloom,  but  a  subdued 
and  peaceful  tranquillity,  which  led  each  heart 
to  commune  with  its  own  interior  thoughts  and 
brood  in  silence  over  its  own  peculiar  hopes. 

All  was  bustle  throughout  the  house,  except 
in  the  part  immediately  occupied  by  the  amiable 

family.      A  large  party  from  E          and  the 

neighborhood  was  expected,  and  Mrs.  Murray 
who,  between  her  grief  at  the  anticipated  part- 
ing, the  excitement  of  the  occasion,  in  which  her 
reputation  as  the  queen  of  housekeepers  was  in- 
volved, and  the  struggle  to  control  her  emotion, 
was  particularly  exact  in  her  demands  on  her 
subordinates,  and  seemed  to  consider  it  a  point 
of  honor  to  put  everybody  in  exactly  the  same 
degree  of  mental  and  bodily  excitement  that  she 
herself  was  in.  About  twelve  o'clock  the  guests 
began  to  assemble.  Carriage  after  carriage, 
horseman  after  horseman,  dashed  up  to  the 
house  and  deposited  their  charges  in  gay  and 
elegantly  dressed  groups  on  the  broad  steps  of 
the  spacious  piazza,  where  they  were  met  by  Mr. 
LesHe,  who  introduced  them  into  the  drawing- 
rooms.  As  Mrs.  Murray  heard  of  the  various 
arrivals  her  agitation  reached  its  acme,  and  if  the 
body  of  a  dear  and  departed  friend  had  been  on 
the  eve  of  removal  to  its  last  resting  place  the  ex- 
pressions of  her  grief  could  not  have  been  more 
frantic.  One  moment  she  would  add  a  leaf  or 
blosso.m  to  the  wreath  which  surrounded  the 


TEE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY, 


257 


snowy  bridecake,  then,  bursting  into  tears, 
would  turn  hastily  away,  and  probably  come  in 
rather  violent  contact  with  some  of  the  half- 
grown  servants,  whom  she  had  called  in  to  her 
assistance,  who  were  rewarded  for  being  in  her 
way  by  a  well-aimed  blow;  then  she  snatched  off 
her  spectacles  from  her  nose  and  put  them  in  her 
pocket,  when,  soon  forgetting  the  fact,  she  or- 
dered two  or  three  of  those  present  to  commence 
a  close  search  after  them  in  the  most  improbable 
corners  and  out-of-the-w^ay  places,  until,  finally, 
throwing  herself  desperately  on  the  bed,  she  de- 
clared it  all  came  of  the  new  religious  turn  that 
had  got  at  the  Hall — everything  was  turned 
topsy-turvy;  she  believed  it  was  all  bewitched 
with  the  strange  doings! 

We  might  describe  the  wedding,  but  why?  It 
would  be  like  an  oft-told  tale ;  therefore  we  will 
content  ourselves  with  saying  the  company  was 
numerous,  gay,  and  composed  of  the  e/tU  of  the 
Old  North  State,  but,  hke  ''bright,  particular 
stars,"  the  beautiful  twins  of  Elverton  Hall,  the 
bride  and  her  sister,  excelled  all;  and  every  one 
present  ungrudgingly  asserted,  as  they  stood 
hand  in  hand,  Blanche  leaning  on  the  arm  of  Ed- 
gar St.  Johns,  before  Father  Borgia,  arrayed  ex- 
actly alike  in  rich  white  satin  dresses,  and  almost 
covered  with  long  transparent  veils,  which  were 
confined  around  their  heads  by  a  tiny  wreath  of 
orange-blossoms,  without  any  other  ornament 


258  THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY, 


whatever — that  nothing  half  so  lovely  had  ever 
been  seen. 

The  admiration  of  the  company  was,  however, 
'in  a  measure  divided  by  curiosity  at  the 
the  wedding  ceremony,  which  was  performed 
by  Father  Borgia,  who  was  dressed  in  rich 
sacerdotal  vestments,  and,  to  the  satsifac- 
tion  of  all,  had  a  great  deal  of  Latin  in  it. 
They  were,  however,  so  prepossessed  by  his  meek 
and  dignified  deportment,  his  courteous  man- 
ners and  edifying  and  intellectual  conversation, 
that  not  a  few  among  them  declared  they  in- 
tended to  come  frequently  to  Mr.  Leslie's  chapel 
for  the  purpose  of  hearing  him  preach  and 
say  the  Mass,  of  which  they  had,  since  Mr.  For- 
rester's conversion,  heard  so  much.  The  con- 
gratulations and  kind  wishes  over,  the  sisters  re- 
tired to  exchange  their  rich  bridal  robes  for  dark 
travelling  dresses,  after  which  they  returned, 
Corinne  holding  little  Irene  by  the  hand  and  fol- 
lowed by  Amy,  who  were  to  travel  with  them,  to 
receive  the  adieus  of  their  friends  and  servants. 
Tears  were  shed,  kind  words  spoken  and  bless- 
ings bestowed  on  both  sides,  and  after  kneehng 
together  to  receive  Father  Borgia's  blessing, 
they  entered  their  travelling  carriage.  There 
was  a  waving  of  handkerchiefs  and  hands  and  a 
murmur  of  good  wishes,  a  straining  of  eyes  to 
catch  the  last  look,  and  in  another  moment  the 
trees  concealed  it — another  glimpse,  and  they 
were  out  of  sig:ht.  5|<  ^jc 


TEE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


259 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

LEAVING  THE  WORLD— COXSCIENXE— ELVER- 
TON  HALL. 

SIX  years  had  glided  rapidly  by,  and  Time 
had,  as  usual  with  him,  sown  tears  as  well 
as  blossoms  on  the  earth.  The  Leslies  had 
returned  from  their  tour  in  Europe,  where  they 
had  seen  and  duly  appreciated  all  that  was  most 
interesting  and  worthy  of  observation.  But  a 
view  of  the  ancient  world,  its  sublime  reHcs  of 
genius  and  art,  its  faded  glories  and  splendid  re- 
mains of  past  ages,  the  m.agnificence  of  its  courts, 
the  pride  and  state  of  its  monarchs  and  gayety  of 
its  capitals — so  far  from  winning  Corinne  Leslie 
from  her  pious  purpose,  made  her  long  more  ar- 
dently to  fly  from  its  beguiling  flatteries  and  the 
soul-destructive  repose  of  its  sedtictive  paths  to 
the  safe  and  holy  way  of  the  cross,  which,  though 
narrow  and  steep  and  strewn  with  thorns  which 
wound  the  pilgrim  feet  of  those  who  persevere 
unto  perfection,  leads  direct  to  the  very  portals 
of  the  heavenly  world. 

It  was,  therefore,  with  a  sad  heart  that  iNIr. 


260  THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


Leslie,  in  accordance  with  his  promise,  gave  his 
unqualified  consent,  after  their  return,  for  her  to 

enter  her  novitiate  at  Mt.  St.  J  's.    She  did 

not  return  to  Elverton  Hall,  but,  after  spending 

a  few  happy  days  with  Sister  Therese  in  B  , 

went,  accompanied  by  her  father  and  Irene,  who 
was  to  be  educated  under  the  care  of  the  pious 
and  accompHshed  sisters  who  have  charge  of  the 

academy,  to  Mt.  St.  J  's.    Blanche  felt  as  if 

she  could  scarcely  survive  the  pang  of  separation, 
and  was  so  ill  for  several  days  from  the  effects  of 
fatiguing  travel  and  mental  excitement  in  conse- 
quence of  it,  that  they  all  feared  she  would  sink 
under  it;  but  skilful  medical  care,  and,  above  all, 
the  consolations  of  religion,  healed  the  wound, 
and  ere  long  she  learned  to  think  of  her  sister  as 
an  angel,  who  only  wore  the  garb  of  humanity; 
and  when  Mr.  Leslie  returned  from  Mt.  St. 

J  's  with  cheering  accounts  of  the  absent  one, 

her  happiness,  her  tranquil  joy,  and  the  tender 
friends  by  whom  she  was  surrounded,  they  pro- 
ceeded homewards,  missing  her  society,  it  is  true, 
but  with  souls  drawn  nearer  to  heaven  by  the 
sacrifice,  and  feeling  honored  that  God  had 
chosen  one  from  their  midst  to  serve  him  in  a 
peculiar  and  especial  manner.  They  had  long 
prayed  for  these  sentiments  of  resignation,  and 
while  endeavoring  to  conform  themselves  in 
spirit  to  the  will  of  Almighty  God,  suppHcated 
him  in  secret  that  their  human  and  natural  in- 


THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


261 


clinations  might  also  be  subject  to  it  without  re- 
serve in  regard  to  this;  but  these  blessings  were 
withheld  until  the  sacrifice  was  complete,  when 
their  hearts  became  gradually  filled  with  the 
most  resigned  peace  and  an  increase  of  interior 
devotion. 

Father  Borgia,  by  the  advice  of  his  superiors, 
remained  a  year  longer  at  Elverton  Hall,  during 
which  time  the  number  of  CathoUcs  in  the  neigh- 
borhood increased  so  rapidly  that  ''Our  Lady's 
Chapel"  could  not  contain  half  their  number, 
and,  there  being  much  wealth  among  them,  they 
soon  erected  a  handsome  and  commodious 
church  on  a  site  presented  to  them  by  Mr.  Leslie. 

Ere  the  time  approached  for  the  beloved  and 
pious  pastor.  Father  Borgia,  to  leave  the  little 
flock  to  go  among  the  wilds  beyond  the  Rocky 
Mountains  to  carry  the  tidings  of  salvation  to 
the  hordes  of  red  men  who  wander  there,  he  had, 
by  his  representations  and  influence  in  the  proper 
quarter  obtained  a  zealous  and  worthy  clergyman 
to  supply  his  place.  Among  the  most  import- 
ant conversions  was  Mrs.  Herbert,  who,  literally 
driven  by  affliction  to  the  foot  of  the  cross,  was 
an  edifying  example  to  all  of  penitence  and  resig- 
nation. 

Evelyn  Herbert  was  a  wanderer,  none  knew 
whither.  Writhing  beneath  the  consciousness 
of  being  a  murderer,  although  by  legitimate,  or, 
as  the  world  would  say,  by  honorable  means, 


262 


TUE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


without  a  hope  or  firm  principle  of  religion  to 
steady  his  soul  amidst  the  undisciplined  passions 
of  his  nature  and  those  mad  theories  of  his  proud 
mind,  which  mingled  together  in  such  chaotic 
disorder,  he  became  reckless,  and  plunged  wildly 
into  the  vortex  of  the  wildest  dissipation.  He 
grew  prematurely  old;  his  eagle  flight  was 
brought  suddenly  low  by  the  poisonous  shaft 
which  had  entered  his  soul  and  festered  there  for 
years;  it  told  at  last,  and  the  wound,  when  it  had 
corroded,  deprived  him  finally  of  every  redeem- 
ing trait  of  moral  beauty.  He  became  morose 
and  averse  to  society,  and,  like  a  sword  rusting  in 
its  scabbard  his  mind,  so  richly  gifted  with  all  that 
could  ennoble  human  nature,  preyed  on  itself. 
No  endearments,  no  friendship,  no  menaces  or 
advice  could  win  the  wretched  misanthrope  from 
the  fiery  circle  which  surrounded  and  scathed 
him,  until  at  last,  wearied  with  importunities  and 
maddened  by  conscience,  he  disappeared  from  his 
home,  none  knew  whither.  But  prayers  fol- 
lowed the  wanderer.  The  mother,  from  whose 
neglect — oh,  mothers!  what  fearful  powers  of  Hfe 
and  death  are  yours! — proceeded  all  these  disor- 
ders, kneehng  daily,  a  lowly  penitent  before  the 
altar  of  God,  prayed  for  his  salvation.  This  was 
all  which  she,  in  her  agony,  thought  of.  She 
cared  not  what  evil  might  befall  his  body,  or 
what  ills  of  poverty  afflicted  him,  and  was  indif- 
ferent to  a  separation  which  might  last  as  long  as 


TEE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY,  263 


they  both  lived,  so  that  his  soul — his  immortal 
soul — was  touched  with  contrition  and  driven  to 
seek  a  reconciliation  with  God.  Scarcely  an  hour 
passed,  while  waking,  that  she  did  not  implore 
the  Refuge  of  Sinners,  the  Mother  of  Sorrows,  to 
guard  her  prodigal  child  from  the  pitfalls  which 
abounded  in  the  dark  and  gloomy  way  he  had 
chosen;  and  even  while  sleeping  her  soul,  still  in- 
tent on  its  object,  would  cry  out,  with  agony  un- 
speakable, ''Spare  him!  oh,  God!  spare  his  soul!" 
and  with  a  throbbing  heart  awake,  but  to  con- 
tinue the  prayer  as  she  turned  her  white  and 
wasted  cheek  on  the  pillow,  wl  ich  was  literally 
wet  with  her  tears.  Judge  Herbert  endured  the 
bitterness  of  his  trial  in  proud  silence.  No  one 
could  tell  how  it  affected  his  interior  life.  His 
hair  had  grown  much  whiter,  and  his  face  paler 
and  thinner,  but  no  other  token  gave  evidence  of 
the  busy  care  within,  and  although  Father  Bor- 
gia, who  was  always  favorably  received  by  him, 
made  several  ineffectual  attempts  to  introduce 
spiritual  matters  through  the  medium  of  his  keen 
and  deep  troubles,  he  was  silently  and  firmly  re- 
pulsed, until,  hopeless  of  gaining  his  confidence, 
he  desisted,  and  was  obliged  to  content  himself 
with  constant  prayers  in  his  behalf.  Willie  Ste- 
vens, whom  Mr.  Leslie  had  employed  to  manage 
the  affairs  of  his  plantation  during  his  absence  in 
Europe,  gave  such  unlimited  satisfaction  by  his 
prudence,  integrity  and  excellent  management 


264 


THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY, 


that  he  was  prevailed  on  to  remain  and  take  into 
his  own  hands  the  entire  charge  of  his  concerns. 
The  people  on  the  plantation  regarded  him  as  a 
friend,  and  such  was  the  excellent  and  pious  ex- 
ample he  always  set  before  them,  and  so  benevo- 
lently, yet  firmly,  were  his  reproofs  always  ad- 
ministered to  them,  that  his  influence  was  almost 
unlimited.  The  remembrance  of  his  trials  taught 
him  many  lessons  of  charitable  forbearance,  and 
also  the  emptiness  and  deceit  of  the  world's 
promises,  and  how  worse  than  vain  are  all  things 
which  are  separated  from  the  love  of  God  and 
confidence  in  his  justice;  but  this,  so  far  from  em- 
bittering his  mind  against  mankind,  taught  him 
to  pity  and  pray  for  their  infirmities,  that  they 
might  be  induced  to  leave  the  paths  of  error  and 
enter  into  the  fold  of  that  true  religion  whose 
spirit  inculcates  the  divine  precept  of  praying  for 
those  who  love  us  not  and  despitefully  use  us. 
Frequent  and  fervent  were  the  prayers  of  this 
pious  young  man  for  Evelyn  Herbert,  and  if  he 
had  a  care  on  earth  it  was  anxiety  for  him,  who, 
when  all  the  world  had  forsaken,  supported  and 

gratuitously  defended  him  

Years  passed  on  and  the  family  at  Elverton 
Hall  continued  in  all  the  practices  of  Catholic 
devotion  and  well-regulated  charities.  Blanche 
had  become  the  mother  of  two  lovely  children, 
who  soon  filled  up  the  vacuum  in  the  Httle  circle 
which  was  occasioned  by  the  absence  of  Corinne, 


THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


265 


and  who  gladdened  the  dedining  years  of  Mr. 
Leslie  and  shed  joy  and  blessings  around  his 
daily  paths.  They  soon  learned  to  lisp  their  sim- 
ple prayers  before  the  image  of  the  Mother  of 
God,  and  while  listening  to  the  sweet,  low  tones 
of  her  whose  arms  encircled  them  as  they  knelt, 
learned  to  feel  that  they  had  also  a  mother  in 
heaven.  The  name  of  Corinne  might  be  heard 
morning  and  evening,  mingling  with  their  sim- 
ple and  innocent  prayers.  Mrs.  Murray  contin- 
ued firm  and  positive  in  her  opinion  of  the  infalli- 
bility of  her  peculiar  religious  views;  and,  al- 
though she  became  gradually  accustomed  to  the 
''Catholic  innervations,"  as  she  called  them,  she 
never  failed  to  bestow  anything  but  a  blessing  on 
them  whenever  Corinne's  name  was  mentioned 
in  her  presence;  ''for,"  exclaimed  she,  at  least 
every  day,  "if  it  hadn't  been  for  the  Catholic  re- 
ligion—if it  is  a  religion  at  all — she  would  be  here 
this  minute,  the  darling,  instead  of  straggling 
about  the  world  waiting  on  poor  folks — she,  in- 
deed, who  ought  to  have  a  servant  at  every  fin- 
ger to  wait  on  her.  I  date,"  she  used  to  say,  "all 
my  grievances  from  the  night  that  ship  was 
wracked  about  here,  and  though  I'd  often  heerd 
of  evil  spirits  riding  about  on  the  clouds  in  a 
storm,  I  never  believed  it  until  now;  and  if  there 
wasn't  witches  about  that  night  I'm  a  false 
prophet."  And  although  the  whole  neighbor- 
hood gradually  felt  the  beneficent  influences  re- 


266  THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


suiting  from  the  conversion  of  the  family  at  the 
Hall,  she  obstinately  maintained  that  they  were 
no  better  now  than  they  were  before,  and  if  they 
had  turned  Baptists  instead  of  Catholics  the 
same  things  would  not  only  have  been  done,  but 
done  ten  times  better!  Notwithstanding  but 
few  of  Mr.  LesHe's  slaves,  in  a  comparative  point 
of  view,  became  Catholics,  the  good  example  of 
those  who  did  exercised  a  salutary  influence  over 
the  morality  of  all,  and  was  gradually  preparing 
the  way  for  the  conversion  of  many  more  to  the 
faith.  Once  a  year  regularly,  no  matter  where, 
or  in  what  part  of  the  country,  Corinne — or  Sis- 
ter Mary  Bernard,  which  was  the  religious  name 
she  had  assumed  when  she  made  her  vows — was, 
Mr.  Leslie,  with  Edgar  and  Blanche,  visited  her, 
and  always  returned  edified  and  dehghted  with 
her  cheerful,  useful  and  humble  piety.  No  one 
could  have  recognized,  beneath  the  modest  garb 
of  St.  Vincent's  holy  daughters,  in  this  humble 
servant  of  the  poor,  the  scion  of  one  of  the  oldest 
and  proudest  families  of  Carolina.  No;  with  her 
worldly  garments,  its  changing  fashions  and 
costly  appliances,  she  had  thrown  off  the  remem- 
brance of  those  adventitious  superiorities,  and 
chose  only  to  recollect  in  the  past  the  wonders  of 
God's  love  to  her  and  her  own  unworthiness, 
which,  by  comparison,  exalted  with  a  greater 
glory  the  merits  of  Christ.  She  heard  words  of 
commendation  and  praise  with  alarm  and  con- 


TEE  SLATER   OE  C  SARI  IT. 


267 


fusion,  and  received  reproof  with  sv.-eetness  and 
silence.  Persevering,  cheerful  and  true  to  her 
vocation,  she  became  a  model  for  all,  while  she, 
in  her  profound  humility,  vdshed  to  be  really  and 
truly  the  servant  of  all.  Her  beauty,  which  had 
assumed  with  her  new  character  a  spiritual  and 
angehc  cast,  in  many  cases  won  the  confidence 
of  those  who.  hardened  and  embittered  by  many 
an  outbreaking  sin  and  weary  trial,  would  other- 
wise have  turned  avv'ay  from  aught  that  beamed 
not  with  kindest  and  holiest  feelings  of  the  hu- 
man heart.  They  listened  while  they  gazed,  as 
she  told  them  of  their  Friend  above,  and  the  Ref- 
uge of  Sinners,  until  they  almost  fancied  that  one 
of  God's  angels  had  descended  to  lead  them  back 
to  the  pleasant  ways  of  virtue  and  the  sweet  con- 
solations of  religion.  And  yet,  what  vras  this 
beauty  to  her  who  never  thought  of  it  but  as  a 
painted  thing  of  dust  and  ashes,  vrhich  would  one 
day  becomic  food  for  those  shmy  reptiles  which 
batten  on  the  dead,  and  heeded  it  not,  only  as  a 
source  from  which  she  ofttim.es  gathered  sweet 
nowers  of  humility  to  wreathe  in  with  her  crown 
of  thorns  I    .    .    .  . 

One  afternoon  in  }vlay  Edgar  and  Blanche, 
with  the  chidren.  went  out  on  the  eastern  piazza 
to  enjoy  the  widespread  scenery  of  the  changing 
ocean  and  the  soft  southern  winds  which  came 
floating  so  musically  through  the  tree-tops, 
laden  with  the  fragrance  of  a  thousand  early 


268 


THE  SISTER  OP  CHARITY. 


flowers  and  sweet-scented  shrubs.  The  birds 
were,  as  of  old,  singing  gayly  in  the  sheltered 
woods,  or  trilling  their  wild  notes  on  the  wing, 
which  mingled  in  clear  harmony  with  the  mirth- 
ful tones  of  the  children's  voices  at  play,  while, 
ever  and  anon,  the  harp — Corinne's  harp — on 
which  Blanche  had  been  playing,  responded  in 
exquisite  strains  to  the  long-drawn  breath  of  the 
wind  which  sighed  among  its  strings.  Edgar 
was  adding  the  finishing  touches  to  a  group 
which  he  had  painted  of  Blanche  and  the  chil- 
dren, and  calHng  the  little  creatures  to  him  held 
it  at  a  short  distance  before  their  wondering  eyes. 
They  looked  at  it  curious  and  amazed,  then 
peeped  around  to  see  if  their  mother  sat  where 
they  had  last  seen  her,  or  whether  it  was  really 
she  who  smiled  on  them  from  the  canvas;  then, 
looking  at  each  other,  pointed  with  their  dimpled 
fingers  at  their  portraits,  exclaiming,  "That's 
you,  Cora!  that's  you,  Eddy!"  and  ran  laughing 
to  their  mother's  oustretched  arms.  Mr.  Les- 
lie, who  had  been  at  E  on  business,  returned 

an  hour  earlier  than  he  was  expected,  and,  com- 
ing out  of  the  drawing-room  into  the  piazza  un- 
seen by  them  all,  clasped  both  mother  and  chil- 
dren in  his  arms. 

"Dear  father,"  said  Blanche,  "welcome 
home!" 

"Truly  welcome,  thou  best  of  fathers!"  said 
Edgar,  approaching  with  a  smile;  "but,  surely. 


TEE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


269 


sir,  you  have  found  a  bag  of  gold  on  your  way 
home,  you  look  so  supremely  happy.  I  have  not 
seen  such  a  delighted  countenance  for  years." 

"I  am,"  said  -Mr.  LesHe,  ''perfectly  overjoyed; 
now  guess  at  what." 

''Is  Corinne  coming  home?"  asked  Blanche, 
playfully. 

"i\Iy  child,"  he  replied,  almost  reproachfully, 
"in  that  case  you  would  see  tears  rather  than 
smiles.  God  forbid  that  such  an  event  should 
ever  occur." 

"A  letter  from  Corinne?"  inquired  Edgar. 

"Yes,  and  containing  the  most  remarkable 
news;  upon  my  honor,  I  don't  think  I  could  read 
it  again  without  committing  some  extravagance, 
so  send  these  noisy  ones  away  and  read  it  to- 
gether, while  I  go  to  the  church  and  make  an 
act  of  adoration  and  thanksgiving  to  our  good 
God  for  all  his  mercies  unto  us  ere  I  proceed  to 
the  Oaklands  with  it;  it  concerns  the  inmates 
there  most  materially." 


TEE  SISTER  OF  CHAFclTY. 


CONCLUSION. 

LETTER  FROM  CORINNE  TO  MR.  LESLIE. 

EDGAR  placed  his  painting  in  safety  on  the 
easel,  then  returning  to  the  side  of  Blanche 
opened  the  letter  and  read  it  aloud. 
Again,  dear  reader,  wrap  the  seer  mantle  of  fancy 
around  thee,  as  thou  once  didst  when  thou  stoodst 
with  us  by  the  bedside  of  a  dying  boy,  who,  by 
the  unholy  prayers  of  a  frantic  mother,  was  with- 
drawn from  the  shadow  of  death  which  hung 
darkly  over  him;  fancy  thyself  one  of  the  group 
with  us,  and  let  us  adore  the  wisdom  and  mercies 
of  those  providences  which  so  often  appear  to  us 
sharp  and  bitter,  while  we  hear  the  strange 
events  which  are  recorded  in  that  letter. 

''Dear  Father: 

''I  wrote  you  a  long  letter  two  weeks  ago,  and, 
according  to  a  rule  which  I  had  laid  down  for  my- 
self to  follow,  I  was  not  to  write  again  for  four; 
but  circumstances  sometimes  occur  which,  in 
spite  of  all  our  good  resolutions,  give  the  same 
to  the  winds.    In  the  first  place,  I  have  been  re- 


TEE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


271 


called  by  our  dear  Mother  Rose  from  New  Or- 
leans, and  am  now  with  our  beloved  friend,  Sis- 
ter Therese,  on  duty  at  the  infirmary  here.  How 
wonderful  are  thy  ways,  oh,  God!  they  are  past 
finding  out!  We  obey  what  appears  to  us  the 
ordinary  course  of  events,  and  recognize  not  the 
hand  which  guides  us,  until  some  great  purpose 
of  the  Almighty  reveals  it  to  us.  What  are  we 
but  dust  and  ashes?  and  what  am  I  but  a  worm  of 
the  dust,  that  thou  shouldst  have  chosen  me,  oh, 
Father  of  mercies,  as  the  instrument  of  thy  will? 
But  whither  am  I  going?  my  dear  father  will  ask, 
and  what  does  the  child  mean?  To  render  my- 
self more  intelligible,  I  will  say  that,  with  all  due 
submission  to  the  will  of  our  Lord,  I  am  so  per- 
fectly, so  entirely  happy,  that  if  my  spirit  could 
only  just  now  be  unfettered  from  her  bonds  of 
clay,  how  gladly  would  she  soar  to  the  land  of 
angels,  to  rest  in  ecstatic  gratitude  forever  at  his 
feet!  But  of  this  there  is  no  hope.  In  the  first 
place,  I  am  not  worthy — that  is,  I  am  all  un- 
worthy; in  the  next,  I  am  a  perfect  impersona- 
tion of  health,  and  think  it  more  than  probable 
that  I  shall  live  to  be  called  'grandmother,'  as 
one  or  two  of  the  very  ancient  sisters,  who  are 
superannuated  and  remain  at  the  mother  house 
resting  from  their  labors  are  called  by  the  dear 

community  at  Mt.  St.  J  's.    But  where  am 

I?  In  the  clouds,  you  will  fancy;  but  when  I  tell 
you,  my  father — let  me  hold  you  a  little  longer  in 


272  THE  OF  CHARITY. 

suspense;  it  is  not  well  for  too  much  joy  to  come 
all  at  once;  prepare  yourself  to  hear  something 
which  will  gladden  your  inmost  soul,  and  make 
you  forget  you  are  growing  old.  Wonder  and 
admire  the  ways  of  God,  extol  his  wisdom,  and 
let  us  humble  ourselves  with  grateful  hearts  be- 
fore him,  when  I  tell  you  that  Evelyn  Herbert — 
the  lost  prodigal — is  a  penitent,  and  waiting 
humbly  to  receive  the  sacraments  of  that  religion 
which  he  once  despised,  and  shedding  tears  day 
and  night,  as  from  some  inexhaustible  fount  of 
repentance,  and  then  venerate  with  silent  joy,  or 
hymns  of  praise,  the  power  of  the  goodness  of 
the  Almighty!  But  I  must  tell  you  how  it  was, 
after  hinting  at  the  other  event,  which  has  al- 
most made  me  wild.  Irene  has  found  her  parents  ! 
You  must  excuse  all  incoherencies  in  this  letter, 
for  I  do  assure  you  my  better  spirit  is  whispering 
'Praise  God!  praise  God!'  until  I  can  scarcely  re- 
frain from  filling  the  sheet  with  hymns  and  can- 
ticles of  praise,  instead  of  writing  a  straightfor- 
ward statement  of  facts.  But  I  will  try,  and  as 
I  am  not  blessed  with  an  ubiquity  of  tongue  or 
hand,  you  cannot  hear  both  at  once;  therefore  I 
will  commence  with  the  most  important — the 
conversion  of  Herbert. 

''Last  week,  at  night — it  was  perhaps  eleven 
o'clock,  a  patient  was  brought  in  who  alarmed 
the  whole  house  by  his  violent  outcries,  shouts 
and  blasphemies.    He  had  been  found  wounded 


THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


273 


on  the  steps  of  his  hotel,  and  raging  mad  under 
the  influence  of  the  demon — delirium  tre^nens. 
I  put  my  hands  over  my  ears  to  prevent  their 
hearing  the  most  shocking  imprecations  and 
vilest  blasphemies  of  the  most  holy  and  reverend 
names,  and  kneeUng  by  my  bedside  buried  my 
face  in  the  pillow  that  I  might  more  effectually 
shut  out  every  sound.  Some  one  touched  m.e  on 
the  shoulder;  it  was  Sister  Therese.  ^Come,  my 
dear  child,'  said  she,  'Dr.  R — —  has  just  told 
me  that  the  person  brought  in  is  terribly  wound- 
ed on  the  head  and  arm;  let  us  go;  our  services 
are  required.'  Tremibling  and  shrinking,  I  was 
on  the  eve  of  pleading  an  excuse;  but  my  guar- 
dian angel  was  by  my  side,  and  without  speaking 
I  soon  arrayed  myself  in  my  habit  and  accom- 
panied her.  We  first  entered  the  little  chapel, 
which  is  in  the  second  story,  and  prostrate  before 
the  altar  implored  strength  and  grace  from  our 
Lord  for  the  trying  duties  of  the  night;  then,  en- 
tering the  sick  ward,  approached  the  couch 
where  the  man  lay  foaming  and  shrieking.  He 
was  bound  down  with  cords,  and  surrounded  by 
a  group  composed  of  the  attendant  physician, 
two  students  of  medicine  and  three  or  four  pa- 
tients who  were  convalescent,  and,  disturbed 
from  their  early  slumbers,  had  approached 
through  a  vague  feeling  of  curiosity  to  look  on 
the  cause  of  such  unusual  disquiet;  but  as  soon 
as  they  perceived  us  they  stood  a  little  to  one 


274  THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 

side,  and  I  caught  a  glimpse  of  a  face  which  ter- 
rified me  by  its  faded  resemblance  to  one  I  had 
known  in  former  times.  On  a  nearer  approach 
I  beheld  indeed  the  features  of — Evelyn  Herbert. 
Sister  Therese  had  seen  him  twice  at  Elverton 
Hall,  and  recognizing  him  immediately  grasped 
my  arm.  'It  is  he!'  I  whispered.  But  oh,  how 
altered  was  he!  His  hair,  seven  years  ago  black 
and  glossy  as  the  wing  of  a  raven,  now  hung  in 
scanty  withered  locks  on  his  forehead,  which, 
seamed  with  care  and  dissipation,  had  lost  its 
whiteness  and  polish,  and  was  now  livid  and  cor- 
rugated with  deep  wrinkles  and  swollen  veins; 
his  eyes,  so  remarkable  for  brilliance  and  expres- 
sion, glared  like  a  madman's,  or  gazed  around 
with  a  leaden,  stupid  and  despairing  glance.  All 
was  changed!  He  was  a  perfect  wreck,  and 
emaciated  as  well  by  disease  as  past  excesses.  I 
was  making  lint  and  preparing  it  for  the  use  of 

Dr.  R  while  I  made  these  observations.  The 

pillow  on  which  he  lay  was  crimsoned  with  the 
blood  which  oozed  from  the  frightful  wound  in 
his  head,  and  added  to  the  horror  of  the  scene. 
After  many  ineffectual  efforts  Sister  Therese,  by 
her  firmness  and  kind  manner,  soothed  him  dur- 
ing the  intervals  of  his  madness,  while  Dr.  R  

dressed  the  wound,  after  which  he  became  more 
composed,  and,  being  under  the  influence  of  a 
strong  opiate,  fell  into  a  profound  sleep.  We 
watched  beside  him  all  night,  and  I  succeeded  in 


THE  SISTER  OF.  CHARITY.  275 


putting  a  medal  of  the  Blessed  Virgin  around  his 
neck  without  disturbing  him,  after  which  I  knelt 
and  said  for  him  the  beautiful  and  tender  prayer 
of  St.  Bernard  to  the  most  compassionate  of 
mothers.  The  next  day  he  was  conscious,  but 
in  an  excessively  weak  and  exhausted  state.  Dr. 

R  pronounced  him  incurable,  and  gave  it  as 

his  opinion  that  a  month  or  six  weeks  was  the 
farthest  extent  to  which  life  could  endure,  and 
thought  it  more  than  probable  that  he  would  die 
suddenly  before  the  expiration  of  ten  days.  Oh, 
father!  can  you  imagine  the  agony  of  my  soul 
when  I  heard  this  sentence?  when  I  thought  that 
in  all  human  probability  this,  the  playmate  of  our 
childhood,  the  companion  of  our  youth,  the  idol- 
ized child  of  a  fond  mother — and  that  mother 
our  best  friend — would  die  impenite7it ! 

''I  could  not  sleep  at  night  for  praying,  and 
when,  after  prevailing  on  my  director,  the  Rev. 
Father  H  r,  to  go  in  and  speak  to  him  of  re- 
ligion, death,  eternity  and  a  judgment  to  come, 
and  hearing  that  he  repulsed  him  with  rude  and 
bitter  oaths,  my  cup  was  full,  and  I  could  only 
pour  forth  my  prayers  and  tears  at  the  foot  of 
the  cross,  and  implore  that,  like  the  thief  who 
was  crucified  with  our  Lord,  he  might  be  saved 
even  in  the  eleventh  hour.  Oh,  my  father,  you 
know  that  no  human  weakness  was  blended  with 
the  deep  anxiety  which  I  felt  for  the  soul  which 


276  THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY, 


thus  stood  trembling  on  the  crumbling  verge  of 
eternal  death.  Fearful  that  he  would  discover 
and  recognize  me,  I  never  stood  or  entered  where 
he  could  obtain  a  full  view  of  my  face;  in  fact, 
there  was  no  need,  for,  in  attending  to  his  wound, 
we  generally  stood  at  the  head  of  his  bed.  One 
evening,  as  we  were  dressing  it,  he  grew  restless 
and  impatient,  found  fault  with  all  we  did,  ac- 
cused us  of  harshness  and  roughness,  and,  put- 
ting up  his  hand,  would  have  torn  the  bandages 
off;  but,  laying  my  hand  on  his,  I  put  it  back, 
saying,  'Be  still,  sir;  you  are  already  on  the  verge 
of  the  grave,  and  that  awful  eternity  which  lies 
beyond  will  ere  long  discover  its  realities  to  you. 
Hasten  not,  therefore,  your  entrance  into  the 
dark  and  terrific  future.' 

'So  soon — so  soon,'  he  muttered;  'but  whose 
voice  is  that  ?  I  have  heard  it  before.  Who  are 
you?' 

"  'A  Sister  of  Charity,'  said  Sister  Therese. 
"'Her  name?' 

"  'Sister  Mary  Bernard,'  was  the  reply. 

*'  'Poor  fools!'  he  said,  bitterly,  'why  do  you 
trouble  yourselves  about  such  an  outcast  as  I?' 

"  'For  the  love  of  God,  for  the  sake  of  Him 
who  suffered,  not  only  for  us,  but  for  you,'  said  I, 
in  a  low  tone. 

"  'Pshaw!'  he  said,  contemptuously,  'you  are 
mistaken;  but  you  are  kind-hearted,  and  remind 


THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY.  277 


me  of  my  mother,  I  had  a  mother,  but  her  heart 
is  broken/'  he  said,  while  a  tear  trickled  over  his 
wasted  cheek. 

"  'She  lives,'  said  I,  in  the  same  low  tone,  'to 
pray  and  intercede  for  her  prodigal  child.' 

That  voice  again!  Corinne  LesHe — it  must 
be  yours!'  he  said,  attempting  to  rise  that  he 
might  see  me;  but  I  glided  quickly  from  the 
ward,  and  did  not  return  until  the  next  day  to 
the  ward  where  he  lay. 

''Father  H  r,  who  had  become  much  in- 
terested in  his  case  and  history,  again  visited 
him  that  evening  and  conversed  two  hours  with 
him.  I  say  conversed,  but  it  is  not  so,  for  Eve- 
lyn preserved  a  moody  silence,  and,  morose  and 
abstracted,  did  not  deign  to  reply  once  to  any 
observation  or  question  he  proposed.  Father 

H  r,  disappointed,  and  almost  hopeless  of  his 

conversion,  at  last  bade  him  a  kind  adieu,  and 
rose  from  the  side  of  the  couch  where  he  had  been 
sitting,  to  go. 

"  'I  thank  you,'  said  Evelyn,  'for  your  absence, 
sir.' 

"  'Shall  I  visit  you  again,  my  friend?'  asked 
Father  H  r,  mildly. 

"  'Go  to  the  d — 1,  sir!'  he  said,  'but  excuse  me 
from  any  more  death-bed  homilies.  I  tell  you 
briefly  and  shortly,  I  believe  in  nothing  of  the 
kind!' 

"'Oh,  merciful  Lord!     Jesus  Christ!'  cried 


278 


TEE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


Father  H  r,  clasping  his  hands,  'pardon  the 

insults  which  are  heaped  on  thee;  and  by  thy  five 
wounds,  pity  this  impenitent  sinner!' 

"  'Go,  sir!'  he  exclaimed,  in  a  rage.  'Oh,  that 
I  had  strength  to  hurl  you,  hypocrite,  from  the 
room!' 

'You  have  not  strength,  my  son,'  replied 

Father  H  r,  mildly.      'He  who  gave,  has 

taken  your  strength  from  you  and  laid  you  low — 
a  thing  dependent  and  helpless,  subject  to  his 
holy  and  just  decrees,  and  will,  ere  many  days 
elapse,  aye,  perhaps  many  hours,  recall  the  soul, 
which  in  the  early  dawn  of  your  existence  pro- 
ceeded from  him  unsullied  by  crime,  but  which, 
through  your  fault,  is  now  a  deformed,  polluted 
and  ruined  thing.  There  zs  a  God — there  is  an 
eternity,  and  to  them  you  are  rapidly  hastening! 
Sign  not  then,  my  poor  child,  your  own  perdition 
by  despising  and  turning  away  from  the  cross; 
feel  willing  to  be  crucified  with  Christ,  that  you 
may  be  saved  from  the  flames  of  hell — those 
flames  which  everlastingly  consume,  yet  never 
diminish  a  single  iota  the  existence  of  the  immor- 
tal soul!' 

"  'Bugbears  will  not  frighten  me,  priest!  Go! 
I  bid  you  once  more,  or  I  will  hurl  this  at  your 
head!'  he  exclaimed,  infuriated,  and  snatching 
up  a  small  stone  pitcher  which  stood  on  a  table 
by  his  bedside. 

"  'Go  I  cannot;  strike  me,  spit  on  me,  insult 


THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY.  279 


me  as  3'ou  wilh  I  leave  you  not  until  you  give  me 
some  token  of  repentance,  until  I  see  a  light 
dawn  on  your  darkened  soul;  until  I  hear  you 
acknowledge  Him  whom  you  now  deny  with 
such  imprecations,  and  ask  Him  with  penitent 
tears  to  pardon  you  your  trespasses.  They  are 
great,  I  know;  they  outnumber  the  sands  on  the 
ocean-shore;  they  are  crimson,  like  blood;  but 
oh,  sir!  the  merc}^  of  our  God  is  infinite;  it  knows 
neither  space  or  bounds;  and  the  blood  of  Jesus 
Christ  can  wash  your  soul,  now  ensanguined  by 
the  stains  of  many  years,  as  white  as  snow.  He 
implores  you  from  the  cross — oh,  sir!  delay  not, 

delay  not  ' 

'What,  ho!'  he  cried,  with  white,  quivering 
lips,  'are  ye  all  leagtied  against  me?  We  have 
a  madman  here — take  him  out — take  him  out!' 

''Father  H  r  stood  gazing  down  a  moment 

on  him,  then,  bursting  into  a  flood  of  tears, 
clasped  his  hands,  and  while  those  drops  from 
pity's  sweet  fountain  streamed  over  his  face  he 
prayed  a  moment  in  silence  for  the  impenitent 
one,  and  then,  with  a  heavy  heart,  left  him. 

''When  I  went  into  the  ward  about  nine 
o'clock  he  was  evidently  sinking.  He  appeared 
to  be  in  the  most  frightful  agonies,  but  spoke 
not  a  word,  and  writhed  and  turned,  while  mon- 
strous groans,  that  echoed  through  the  silent 
ward,  burst  involuntarily  from  his  lips. 

"  'Are  you  in  much  pain,  sir?"  I  asked,  in  a  low 


280  TEE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


voice.  The  lamp  was  so  shaded  that  he  could 
not  see  me. 

"  The  pains  of  hell/  he  cried,  'already  con- 
sume me!' 

'May  I  pray  for  you,  my  friend?'  I  asked, 
timidly. 

'Ha!  ha!  ha!  pray?  yes,  but  for  what?  Yes, 
pray;  you  are  kind,  and  it  will  gratify  you.  Pray 
on  from  now  until  doomsday,  if  you  choose — 
ha!  ha!' 

"I  knelt,  my  father — trembling  in  every  limb, 
I  knelt  to  pray  for  the  dying  man.  I  made  my 
communion  that  morning  for  him,  and  Father 

H  r  had  remembered  him  while  offering  up 

the  holy  sacrifice,  while  Sister  Therese  and  two 
other  pious  sisters  said  the  rosary  daily  for  him. 
I  closed  my  eyes,  and  committing  him  as  well  as 
myself  to  the  mercies  of  God,  said  distinctly 
these  words: 

"  'Remember,  oh,  most  compassionate  Virgin 
Mary!  that  from  all  ages  it  is  unheard  of  that  any 
one  was  forsaken  who,  placing  himself  under  thy 
maternal  protection,  implored  thy  assistance  and 
'begged  the  favor  of  thy  prayers;  animated  with 
'the  confidence  which  this  inspires,  I  fly  to  thee, 
oh,  Virgin  of  Virgins  and  mother  of  my  God  !  and 
in  the  bitterness  of  my  sorrow  I  throw  myself  at 
thy  feet!  Oh,  Mother  of  the  Eternal  World! 
despise  not  my  humble  supplication,  but  listen 
graciously,  and  mercifully  grant  the  request 


TEE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY.  281 


which  from  my  heart  I  make.  Intercede,  oh, 
Refuge  of  Sinners!  for  this  soul,  and  by  thy  pow- 
erful intercession  with  thy  divine  Son,  may  it  be 
rescued  from  perdition  and  eternally  saved!' 

"When  I  finished  I  looked  up,  expecting  to 
see  the  smile  of  scorn  wreathing  his  lips,  and  hear 
taunting  words,  when — oh,  wonder  of  wonders! 
oh,  miracle  of  grace!  he  lay  with  his  hands 
meekly  clasped  on  his  breast,  and  tears  stream- 
ing in  torrents  over  his  cheeks.* 

'Wretched,  wretched,  miserable  sinner  that 
I  am!'  he  whispered;  'oh,  God!  oh,  God!  I  dare 
not  ask  for  mercy!  Patient  Christian,  whoever 
you  may  be,  bring  hither  some  one  who  can  speak 
peace  to  my  troubled  soul — ruined!  alas,  ruined! 
how  ruined!' 

"  'Behold  him!  behold  him  who  will  save  you!' 
I  cried,  placing  a  crucifix  in  his  unresisting  hands, 
and  left  the  room  in  haste  to  send  for  Father 
H  r. 

"Two  days  have  elapsed  and  Evelyn  Herbert 

*The  coincidence  between  this  circumstance  and  one 
which  occurred  in  Alexandria,  District  of  Columbia, 
is  purely  accidental,  as  it  was  written  some  time  previous 
to  the  time  the  latter  interesting  conversion  took  place. 
However,  these  miracles,  through  the  intervention  of  the 
Blessed  Virgin  Mary,  are  by  no  means  rare  or  singular  in 
the  Church.  One  of  the  most  interesting,  however,  which 
has  occurred  for  many  years,  is  that  of  Monsieur  Ratis- 
bonne,  who,  being  a  Jew  of  the  strictest  sect,  was  miracu- 
lously converted  to  Christianity  in  Rome  a  few  years  ago, 
through  the  intercession  of  Mary,  Mother  of  God. 


282  THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY, 


spends  every  hour  of  his  waning  life  in  the  pro- 
foundest  acts  of  penance.  I  have  not  seen  him 
since.  My  mission  is  accompHshed — my 
prayers  v^ith  regard  to  him  are  answered,  and  a 
discovery  now  might  agitate  and  carry  his  feel- 
ings back  to  those  days  which  he  should  forget 
forever.  I  shall  not,  therefore,  see  him  again, 
unless  my  services  are  positively  required,  which 
is  not  probable,  for  he  is  now  quiet  and  as  placid 
as  a  lamb.  The  holy  names  of  Jesus  and  Mary 
are  ever  on  his  lips;  the  crucifix  I  gave  him  never 
out  of  his  hands,  and  Sister  Therese  says  that  the 
tears  which  flow  incessantly  from  his  eyes,  have 
almost  worn  channels  in  his  cheeks.  He  asks 
pardon  of  all  for  the  trouble  he  gives,  and  had  he 
the  strength  would  arise  and  kiss  the  dust  from 

the  feet  of  Father  H  r,  while  every  service 

which  is  rendered  him  is  received  with  the  great- 
est confusion  and  humility.  Oh,  my  father!  let 
us  venerate  the  beloved  name  of  Mary,  while  we 
give  glory  to  our  Lord.  He  is  as  docile  as  a  child, 
and  yields  with  the  utmost  simpHcity  and  piety  to 
all  the  requisitions  of  rehgion.  He  has  been  bap- 
tized, and  confessed  frequently,  and  such  is  his 
sense  of  humility  and  unworthiness  that  he  trem- 
bles at  the  idea  of  receiving  the  adorable  sacra- 
ment, which  he  looks  on  as  the  greatest  boon 
which  can  now  be  bestowed  on  him.  He  will 
communicate  to-morrow  morning.  Sister  Ther- 
ese says  also  that  he  has  regained  the  gentleness 


Behold  himI  Behold  Him  who  will  save  youI"  Page 


THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


2S3 


and  elegance  of  his  manner,  which  now  betrays 
itself  in  every  movement,  and  the  faded  beauty 
of  his  fine,  intellectual  face  is  almiost  revived.  Dr. 

R  said  to-day:  'Can  it  be  possible  this  is  the 

same  man,  sister,  that  we  had  here  a  day  or  tv\'0 
ago?    I  never  saw  a  creature  so  changed.' 

"  'In  the  great  change,  Doctor,'  I  replied, 
'which  you  behold,  and  at  Avhich  you  seem  sur- 
prised, there  has  been  no  human  agency.  It  is 
one  of  those  miracles  of  grace  bv  which  Almighty 
God  chooses,  as  by  a  distinctive  mark  from  all 
others,  his  church  shall  be  known.' 

"He  was  silent  and  thoughtful  for  a  moment; 
but,  taking  up  his  hat,  walked  out  without  mak- 
ing a  reply,  humming  in  an  undertone  some  light 
opera  air. 

"Go,  my  father,  a  messenger  of  peace,  to  the 
broken-hearted;  go  to  }\Irs.  Herbert — tell  her 
these  wonders — tell  her  that  the  prodigal  has 
returned,  and  there  is  great  joy  in  his  Father's 
house;  a  new  robe  has  been  put  on  him;  the  dead 
is  alive,  and  the  lost  found.    Alleluia!  alleluia! 

Thursday. — Yesterday  was  another  day  of 
wonders.  It  is  a  season  of  the  year  when  many 
strangers  visit  the  city,  some  on  their  way  north, 
and  others  returning  from  various  watering 
places  to  their  southern  homes,  and,  as  usual,  we 
have  many  visitors  who  come  to  see  the  institu- 
tion as  one  of  the  lions  of  the  city.  Among 
other  arrivals  was  my  beautiful  child  Irene,  whose 


284 


TBE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


health  having  suffered  from  too  much  applica- 
tion to  her  studies,  was  sent  down  by  the  super- 
ior of  the  school  to  spend  a  week  or  so  with  me, 
to  see  if  change  of  air  would  prove  beneficial  to 
her.  She  is  now  twelve  years  of  age,  tall  and 
well  formed,  rather  delicate  and  fragile  in  appear- 
ance, with  features  whose  exquisite  loveHness  is 
surpassed  by  the  virtue  and  dignity  of  her  pious 
mind.  She  was  seated  in  our  parlor  near  a  win- 
dow, which  was  shaded  by  a  number  of  plants 
which  had  been  for  successive  years  cultivated 
by  the  Sisters  who  from  time  to  time  had  resided 
at  the  Infirmary.  She  was  embroidering  a  rich 
pattern  on  fine  India  muslin,  which  she  intended 
having  an  alb  made  of  to  present  to  Father 

H  r  for  a  Christmas  gift.     There  were  no 

strange  visitors  in  the  house,  and  as  the  recep- 
tion hour  was  nearly  over  we  congratulated  our- 
selves on  a  little  quiet,  when  the  door  opened  and 
a  gentleman  of  a  prepossessing  countenance  en- 
tered, on  whose  arm  leaned  a  lady,  who  appeared 
almost  exhausted  by  the  effort  of  walking  from 
their  carriage  to  the  house.  We  immediately 
handed  her  a  chair  and  procured  a  glass  of  water, 
which  she  gratefully  accepted,  and  that  seemed 
to  refresh  her.  Sister  Therese,  who  was  not  in 
the  parlor  when  they  came,  now  entered,  and,  ap- 
proaching the  strangers  to  exchange  the  usual 
compliments  of  the  day  with  them,  was  surprised 
and  shocked  when  the  lady,  who  gazed  for  a  mo- 


THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


285 


ment  intently  and  full  in  her  face,  uttered ^a  pierc- 
ing shriek  and  fell  fainting  in  her  husband's  arms. 

'I  feared  this — I  feared  it,'  said  the  gentle- 
man, much  agitated. 

"  'Sir,  can  we  be  of  any  service  to  your  lady?' 
inquired  Sister  Therese. 

"  ''My  dear  madam,'  he  repHed,  'you  will  ex- 
cuse the  trouble  we  are  giving  you  when  I  in- 
form you  that  a  Sister  of  Charity  is  intimately 
connected  with  one  of  the  most  painful  incidents 
of  our  lives,  and,  strange  to  tell,  you  bear  a  strong 
and  remarkable  resemblance  to  her.  This  re- 
semblance, which  must  be  accidental,'  he  added, 
with  a  deep  sigh,  'has  no  doubt  affected  Mrs.  Sin- 
clair and  caused  her  emotion.' 

"Sister  Therese,  becoming  pale,  passed  her 
hand  rapidly  across  her  eyes,  and,  turning  away, 
was  obliged  to  sit  down  for  an  instant,  but  soon 
recovering  her  composure,  said: 

"  'You  will  not,  I  trust,  accuse  me  of  imperti- 
nent curiosity,  but,  if  it  is  not  a  family  secret, 
allow  me  to  ask  what  that  incident  was.' 

"  'A  shipwreck,'  he  replied,  hastily,  while  by 
a  strong,  manly  effort  he  controlled  the  emotion 
which  moistened  his  eyes  and  wrinkled  his  brow. 

"  'On  the  coast  of  CaroHna?'  inquired  Sister 
Therese. 

"  ^Exactly  so,'  he  said,  looking  with  intense  and 
curious  interest  in  her  face;  'we  were  bound  from 
Havre  to  New  York.    \Yq  had  pleasant  weather 


286 


THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


until  we  rounded  the  Cape,  when  a  storm  arose 
with  such  fury  that  it  tore  our  sails  to  ribbands 
and  spHntered  the  masts,  and  in  this  disabled 
condition  the  ship  was  driven  in  by  furious  winds 
on  a  reef  and  dashed  to  pieces.  Our  only  child 
was  on  board,  who  attached  herself  in  a  singular 
manner  to  a  Sister  of  Charity  who  had  been  to 
France  for  her  health,  and  was  now  returning 
home.  They  both  perished,'  he  said,  bowing  his 
head  on  his  breast  and  no  longer  attempting  to 
conceal  the  fast  flowing  tears. 

"  'A  God  of  love  rules  even  the  storm  which 
seems  to  wreck  our  dearest  hopes,'  said  Sister 
Therese,  looking  up  with  that  sublime  and  un- 
common expression  of  rapt  devotion  which  I 
have  oftener  than  once  remarked;  *but  how,  sir, 
were  yourself  and  lady  saved?' 

"  'We  clung  to  a  portion  of  the  wreck  when 
the  ship  parted,  which  was  washed  by  the  reced- 
ing surf  far  out  to  sea.  One  of  the  sailor  boys 
was  saved  with  us,  and  from  him  we  heard  that 
which  has  since  made  life  of  little  value.  In  the 
rush  which  was  made  for  the  long-boat,  when  the 
ship  struck,  our  child  was  separated  from  us,  nor 
could  we,  in  the  darkness  of  that  distracting  mo- 
ment, recover  her,'  he  replied. 

"  'But  how  know  you,  sir,  that  the  dear  child 
perished?'  she  again  inquired. 

"  The  boy  who  was  saved  with  us  saw  her 
clinging  to  the  bosom  of  the  Sister  of  Charity, 


THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY,  287 


when  an  immense  wave  w^ashed  them  overboard. 
He  saw  them  both  perish.  More  than  once, 
while  drifting — we  three — alone  on  the  still 
stormy  ocean,  did  we  almost  pray  that  it  might 
also  engulf  us;  and  had  it  not  been  for  the  suicidal 
nature  of  the  act,  we  should  have  unfastened  our 
hold  from  the  tangled  fragments  to  which  we 
clung  and  yielded  our  bodies  up  to  the  insatiable 
cravings  of  those  dreary  waves,  which  had  en- 
gulfed our  darling,  our  beautiful  one.  But  God 
preserved  us,  no  doubt  for  some  good  end,  and 
after  floating  two  days  without  food  or  water  a 
large  ship  came  in  view,  which  seemed  to  be  bear- 
ing down  directly  across  our  course.  They  saw 
us — we  were  saved;  but,  madam,  if  your  kind 
curiosity  is  now  gratified,  I  would  prefer  drop- 
ping the  subject;  it  is  too  painful,  and  my  wife 
recovers.' 

'Did  I  not  say  that  Almighty  God  ruled  and 
directed  the  storm?  Admire  his  ways!  Adore 
the  wisdom  of  his  providence!  I  am  the  Sister 
of  Charity  who  was  your  companion  in  that  ill- 
fated  ship,  and  your  child — lives.  Come  hither, 
Irene,  my  love!'  said  Sister  Therese,  leading  her 
from  her  retired  corner;  and  as  she  stood,  with 
glowing  cheeks,  half  hidden  by  those  long,  shin- 
ing curls,  which  you,  my  father,  have  so  often 
played  with,  Mrs.  Sinclair  opened  her  eyes,  and 
gazing  for  a  moment  Avildly  on  her,  exclaimed: 
"  Take  me  hence!  oh,  take  me  away,  my  heart 


288  THE  8ISTER  OF  CHARITY. 


is  breaking!  Whence  come  all  these  visions  of 
the  past?    Oh,  my  child!  my  darling!" 

"  'Mildred,'  said  Mr.  Sinclair,  'be  more  calm, 
my  love  ;  all  did  not  perish  in  that  dreadful  storm.' 

"  'But  my  child — oh,  madam!'  she  said,  as  she 
again  caught  a  full  view  of  Sister  Therese's  face, 
'surely,  surely  you  are  the  same  who  was  with  us 
when — but  I  will  not  name  it;  it  is  Hke  driving  a 
steel  into  the  depths  of  my  soul!  but  tell  me,  in 
the  name  of  God,  did  j/on  see  my  child  perish? 
Did  you — did  you — tell  me,  I  can  believe  you?' 

^  Your  child  lives  I — behold  her!'  said  Sister 
Therese,  pointing  to  Irene. 

"She  sprang  up,  and,  laying  her  hands  on  each 
of  the  dear,  astonished  one's  shoulders,  scanned 
every  feature  ;then,  hastily  pushing  up  the  short 
sleeve  she  wore,  saw  the  red  mark  which  we  had 
so  frequently  commented  on  and  admired;  and, 
as  if  all  doubt  was  at  an  end,  clasped  her  in  her 
arms,  exclaiming  with  rapture,  'My  child!  my 
child!'  then  after  looking  again  earnestly  and 
long  on  the  dear  one's  face,  which  she  had  cov- 
ered with  kisses,  whispered  in  a  kind  of  quiet 
esctasy,  'I  thank  thee,  oh,  God!'  and  fell  again 
fainting  on  her  husband's  breast.  .  .  .  Oh, 
my  father!  such  wonders  I  never  expected  to  see 
on  earth!  such  joy,  that  one  feels  more  of  heaven 
than  earth!  Yet  amidst  all  comes  a  pang,  tell- 
ing me  that  I  must  give  up  my  darling  child  to 
those  who  have  stronger  and  more  natural  claims 


THE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY.  289 


on  her  love  than  I;  to  remind  me  that  I  must  not 
in  the  midst  of  pleasure  forget  the  cross.  Oh, 
no !  dear  Saviour,  I  give  her  up,  as  I  have  given  up 
all  else,  for  thee!  only  do  thou  keep  me  close  to 
thy  v^^ounded  side,  that  I  may  have  no  hope,  no 
love,  no  joy  that  is  not  in  thee!  Farewell,  be- 
loved ones — father,  sister,  brother  and  Uttl^  in- 
nocents! Praise  God  for  all  his  mercies,  and 
pray  for  the  least  and  most  unworthy  of  the  ser- 
vants    our  Lord!  Mary  Bernard. 

On  the  reception  of  this  news  Judge  Herbert, 
accompanied  by  his  lady  and  Willie  Stevens, 

started  at  once  for  B  ,  and  by  rapid  stages 

soon  reached  their  destination;  but  the  penitent 
Evelyn  Herbert  was  no  more.  Suffering  with 
patience,  and  edifying  all  by  deep  contrition  and 
unshaken  faith,  until  the  hour  of  his  last  agony 
came,  he  fell  sweetly  asleep — calm,  trusting  and 
hopeful  in  those  promises  spoken  by  Him  who 
can  alone  give  rest  to  the  weary  and  heavy-laden. 
Tapers  burned  around  the  dead,  emblematic  of 
the  soul  that  dies  not,  and  the  light  which  guides 
us  through  the  valley  of  death;  and  as  their 
beams  fell  on  the  face  of  the  dead,  no  sculptured 
image  of  martyr  or  saint  ever  wore  a  more  holy 
expression  of  rest.  Mrs.  Herbert  approached; 
at  first  an  ague  shivering  convulsed  her  frame, 
then  a  fev/  tears  trickled  down  on  the  marble 
brow  of  her  child ;  but  this  was  all ;  a  beam  of  in- 


290  TBE  SISTER  OF  CHARITY, 

effable  peace  lit  up  her  careworn  features,  and, 
stooping,  she  kissed  his  forehead  and  said,  "God 
bless  thee,  my  darUng!"  then  with  a  strong, 
sweet  voice  intoned  the  'Te  Deum  Laudamus." 
With  one  accord,  and  as  if  moved  by  an  involun- 
tary impulse,  all  stood  and  in  thrilHng  tones, 
amidst  tears  of  joy  for  a  soul  redeemed,  and  with 
the  peace  of  angels  shining  on  each  brow,  they 
sang  the  Te  Deum  around  the  dead!  *  *  *  ^ 

The  parents  of  Irene  were  never  weary  of  acts 
of  gratitude  to  the  two  Sisters  of  Charity  who 
had  borne  so  important  a  part  in  the  preserva- 
tion of  their  child,  and  the  rich  gifts  which  they 
would  have  heaped  on  them  were  by  their  influ- 
ence and  advice  distributed  with  no  sparing 
hand  among  the  needy  poor.     They  settled  in 

B  ,  and  after  keeping  Irene  at  home  with 

them  a  year — during  which  time  they  saw  the 
two  religieux  daily  and  made  frequent  pilgrim- 
ages to  Mt.  St.  J  's,  she  returned  thither,  and 

in  a  few  years  completed  an  education  which, 
while  it  did  her  credit,  reflected  greater  honor  on 
the  care  of  those  who  superintended  it.  Her 
pious  example  and  their  constant  intercourse 
with  the  Sisters  of  Charity  caused  her  parents  to 
investigate  the  Faith,  which  they  ere  long  em- 
braced. 

Amy,  the  faithful  Amy,  the  companion  of  their 
wanderings  in  Europe,  Mr.  Leslie  freed;  she  also 
became  a  faithful  and  pious  Catholic,  and  as 


THE  SIFTER  OF  CHARITY. 


291 


lady's  maid  to  Irene  spent  her  life  in  peace  and 
comfort,  with  few  trials  and  but  little  labor. 

Under  the  humble  garb  of  a  lay  brother  XMliie 
Stevens  lives  in  the  practice  of  the  most  perfect 
Christian  virtues  in  one  of  the  communities  be- 
longing to  a  mission  of  the  Redemptorists  in  the 
west.  Judge  Herbert,  whose  character  only 
wanted  religion  to  make  it  perfect,  became  a 
Catholic,  and  was  an  active  coadjutor  of  ]\Ir.  Les- 
lie's in  every  public  and  private  charity, 
and  ever^'  scheme  relative  to  the  laAvful  im- 
provement, mental  as  well  as  moral,  of  the  nu- 
merous servants  on  their  respective  estates. 
-Mrs.  ]\Iurray,  we  regret  to  say,  remained  invin- 
cible, and  not  infrequently  gave  secret  and  sage 
advice  to  the  children  of  Blanche  concerning  the 
sin  of  "worshipping  saints  and  angels,  and  stocks 
and  stones,"  which  might  have  sown  bad  seeds 
among  their  growing  faith  had  it  not  been  for 
the  wise  supervision  of  their  parents,  whose 
firmness  and  tenderness,  always  consistently  dis- 
played towards  them,  had  so  completely  won 
their  confidence  that  in  the  smallest  difiiculties 
they  invariably  appealed  to  them.  And  when 
mildly  reproved  by  Blanche,  she  would  again 
scold  about  that  "shipwreck."  But  while  she  de- 
nounced, all  others  blessed  the  Sister  of  Charity. 


THE  END. 


